


Eyes Wide Shut

by logans_girl2001



Category: Dark Blue (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 08:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logans_girl2001/pseuds/logans_girl2001
Summary: Carter returns from deep undercover and discovers he forgot about something that Dean says isn't really all that important; except it is. Very much so.





	Eyes Wide Shut

**Author's Note:**

> I had always wanted to do a Big Bang but was intimidated by the deadline and the word count. But then I proved to myself that I can write a large word count in just a couple of months so I decided to toss my hat into the ring for small fandom big bang over on LiveJournal. 
> 
> This takes place post series and for all intents and purposes, season two never happened: Ty's still married to Melissa and Alex never existed.

I really hate being undercover but there are times when it's required. And unfortunately this is one of those times. I've been under for four months trying to crack a drug trafficking ring and that's about two months too long.

What frustrates me the most, aside from not being able to convince Adam Trent to let me be privy to the information I need to put him away, is that I've only been able to see Dean for a few minutes each week since I've been under. And since those few minutes are when I'm passing him the bits of information I've gotten so far, we've had to content ourselves with just the most casual of touches because we've had eyes on us the whole time. 

It's definitely not enough and the last time I saw him his eyes promised that my homecoming will be as hard and as fast and as rough as I can bear it, and I'll most likely not be able to walk once he's done. That was a week ago and it's been damned difficult for me to not risk my cover by slipping away to spend a few hours curled around his lanky form.

Today I plan on asking for assistance in moving this along so that we can disappear somewhere together for a couple of days. But not if he doesn't show soon. A glance at my watch confirms that he is definitely ten minutes late for our scheduled meet and that's not like him. In fact he's usually early which annoys the hell out of me because it makes me feel like I'm late when I know I'm not.

Just as I'm about to give up and head back so that Trent doesn't get suspicious, Dean's Land Rover pulls up. I breathe a sigh of relief. "It's about time, Dean!" I scold, pushing off the wall I've been leaning against. "I was about to-" The words die in my throat when Ty rolls down the passenger window. "What the fuck?"

"Get in," is all he says, the window rolling silently back up.

With a frown pulling my brows low over my nose, I open the door and slide inside, shutting it behind me and turning to face him. "Where's Dean?" I can't keep the concern from my voice.

Ty shrugs. "Don't know. Got a call about twenty minutes ago telling me to meet you here."

"Is that all he said?" It's not like Dean to bail on his job. Especially when that job is the only time we get to see each other until _my_ job is finished.

Ty shrugs again. "Yeah. Gave me directions here and said you should actually have information this time." Ty turns and grins at me. "He did sound pissed, though, if that helps."

"Pissed?" While that isn't unusual for Dean – the man has a hair trigger temper – we haven't seen or talked to each other enough in the past four months for me to have pissed him off. "Any idea why he's pissed?"

Ty's grin widens. "Oh, yeah." He chuckles softly.

I narrow my eyes on his face. "Care to enlighten me?"

He shakes his head. "Nope. Dean'll kill me if he finds out." I turn on my best 'I'm the boss and you will obey me' glare but it just makes him laugh harder. "You'd think that after all this time you'd remember."

"What are you talking about?"

Ty rolls his eyes. "Please, Carter. Jaimie and I both know you're doing Dean." I just about swallow my tongue and manage to gasp out a startled "What!?" to which he laughs so hard the SUV rocks from side to side. "You're about as subtle as a punch to the face. Plus, we're detectives. And we know you both. Oh, sure, Dean managed to throw me off for a while when he was boning Jaimie but since it didn't last long I figured the two of you were on the outs for whatever reason and his wandering into her bed was what got you back together. I'm right about that, aren't I?"

I can only blink at him, my heart in my throat. The only thought in my head is that if Maynard finds out one of us, most likely Dean, will be transferred out and I can't let that happen. "Ty-" His name comes out as a croak.

"Shit, Boss! I had no idea. If I'd known it could be that serious I sure as hell wouldn't have said anything." I shake my head at him, trying to let him know it's alright and it's not what he thinks. "But seriously, if it's this serious, you should know what you've done."

"I can't think of a single thing. We've barely seen each other in four months."

"Then hurry up and bust these assholes so you can ask him yourself."

"Yeah, about that-" I reach into my coat pocket and pull out the flash drive that has the latest intel on it. "It's not much, they still don't trust me enough to let me into the inner circle, but it should be enough to get some warrants or something."

"Know what I've always found useful? Seducing someone in the inner circle. You can learn a lot from pillow talk."

"Are you actually suggesting I cheat on Dean?"

"Is it really cheating if it's someone you wouldn't seduce if you weren't undercover?"

"If Dean's already pissed at me for something, then I don't think it'd be a good idea to test him with that one. Don't you agree?" I have been completely faithful to Dean since we started sleeping together shortly after I hired him, even when we broke up and he started sleeping with Jaimie. Some people might say that means I'm in love, but not me. I don't even _believe_ in love.

Ty does a shrug-shake thing to show his agreement. "I got nothing, then."

"You're a lot of help," I mutter, slumping back in my seat.

He laughs again. "Dean never said I had to help you do your job; just that I had to collect whatever intel you have."

With a wave of one hand, I indicate the flash drive. "You have it already. But warrants take time and I'd much rather be out of here ASAP. And to do that, I _need_ to be trusted with all the details, not just my part of it."

"And to do that, you need the trust of the main target."

I turn my head to stare at where Ty's sitting in the driver's seat. "Tell me something I _don't_ know, please."

He chews on his bottom lip, staring out the windshield. "Surely there's something you can do to show the guy you can be trusted."

"I've tried. He's not impressed by people who do things they haven't been told to do."

"How about unearthing a mole?" I frown at him. "Maybe blame our intel on someone. Not your CI, of course, but someone closer to him. Someone he thinks he can trust and who he'll feel obligated to replace with… _you_."

I purse my lips and nod, thinking about it. "That's not a bad idea. But it'll still take time to set up. Almost the same amount of time as those warrants."

"So, if the warrants come through first, you can use those as your in instead."

"Huh," I grunt. It really is a great idea. But do I want to put myself in that much danger? Is getting back to Dean and soothing whatever ruffled feathers he has really worth it? The answer to both questions is oh, hell _yes_! "Okay. I'll start working on it from my end. You know the code for when the warrants come down. If I have to use them, I'll let you know."

"Got it, Boss." I put my hand on the door handle in preparation of exiting the car. "Any message for the team?" I know he means Dean.

"Yeah. I'll be home soon."

He nods. "Got it. Take care."

I return his nod. "Always." Opening the door, I step from the car, slam it shut behind me and walk away without looking back. If it had been Dean, I would have waited for him to leave first. I love watching that man walk; toward me, away from me, it makes no difference. He has such a natural grace that it's a joy just to watch him move.

On one very memorable occasion, we met in a sleazy hotel that had mirrors everywhere. I'll never forget how he looked while fucking me; the way he stared at his dick disappearing into my ass and then how he looked watching himself riding my cock. A shiver trips down my spine at the mere thought and my dick springs to life. I let the memory play for a few minutes before turning it off and dumping cold water on my libido. Now's not the time for such thoughts. Later, when I'm alone in the crappy room I've been given by Trent, I can take myself in hand and let the memory play. But until then, I have a job to do and a bad guy to put behind bars.

And of course, as luck would have it, the intel I had gathered wasn't quite enough to get a warrant. And so, six weeks later I find myself sitting in the strip club Trent owns and uses as his operations cover, watching the girls shake their naked tits for the mostly drunk customers. It's obvious that most of them are regulars because both the customers and the girls look completely bored with it all.

The past six weeks have been a lesson in learning how to pay attention to the world around me while being mostly distracted by thoughts of fucking Dean. But tonight I feel comfortable enough with my surroundings to let images of the last time Dean and I were alone together thoroughly distract me.

 

Dean had stayed behind after a team cookout at my place with the excuse that he'd help me clean. Well over an hour later he was still riding my cock, both of us hovering _right_ on the edge for most of it and it was bordering on painful.

" _C'mon_ , Carter," he panted against my neck, his tongue flicking out to taste my sweat slicked skin causing a shiver to skate down my spine. "Fuck me like you mean it!"

"What the fuck do you think I've been doing!?" I demanded, grabbing his hips and holding him still so I could slam up into him.

"Ah," he groaned. "That's it! Fuck me like there's no tomorrow!"

If he wanted me to fuck him, then I would fucking well fuck him! Tucking my legs under me, biting back a groan at the twinge as my knees protest the position, I lowered him to the mattress and hooked my hands under his knees to push them further open and back toward his chest, giving me the leverage I needed to really pound his ass.

He tossed his arms over his head and grabbed the footboard, making his back arch off the mattress and changing the angle of my penetration, pulling deep throated moans from both of us.

"God, Carter!" Dean's back arched more and he threw his head back and his muscles began to milk my orgasm from me while his dick shot streams of come all over his chest.

 

"Hey, Big Guy," a sultry voice purrs in my ear, pulling me from my fantasy.

"Wha-?" I blink up at Jaimie's painted face, then frown as my addled mind jumps to conclusions as to why she's here.

"You look lonely. Care to buy a lady a drink?" She leans over my chair, placing her hands on the arms, effectively trapping me in it and wiggles her hips in that way strippers do that they think looks sexy but I always thought makes them look like they need to pee.

I swallow a snort at her use of 'lady' - not that I don't think Jaimie is one, just that there isn't a stripper alive that I think deserves that title. "I'm fine, thanks."

She pouts and sits – slithers – in my lap. "No need to be so mean." She walks the fingers of her left hand up my chest and flicks one nail down my chin. "I'm just asking for one drink. It gets so _hot_ -" She waves her hand in front of her face like it's a fan. "-in here, ya know? Dancing under the lights." She sucks her lower lip between her teeth, opens her eyes impossibly wide and nods her head like she just told me something really important.

I can't help but laugh at her antics. "What's your name, Sweetheart?" I run my right hand up the outside of her left leg, stopping just shy of the gentle curve of her ass.

"They call me Candy." Oh, that's original. I just barely refrain from rolling my eyes but I can't stop them from narrowing. She ducks her head and snickers. "It was Dean's idea," she whispers when I bend my head to make it look like we're kissing.

"He sent you here?" That surprises me. Not that Dean would use Jaimie like this but that he'd send her to meet with me. A quick glance at the clock behind the DJ shows that my weekly meet with Dean – Ty – is supposed to take place in about an hour. "He sent you instead of coming himself."

Jaimie sighs, "Yeah." Ty must have gotten tired of Dean's bitchiness if he refused to meet me this week. It's the only way to explain why I have Jaimie the stripper draped across my lap instead of meeting with Ty in some dank alleyway. "I don't know what you did to piss him off, Carter, but you had better find the intel to nail this asshole so you can come home and fuck him back into a good mood."

"He didn't tell you why he's angry?" I run my hand up the side of her torso and cup her breast, bouncing it a bit as if testing the weight of it, ever mindful that we're being watched.

She bites her lip and arches back, acting like she's enjoying the caress. "Nope. Told me to mind my own fucking business and then tossed me the incidentals card and told me to buy something, and I quote, that a sleazy stripper would wear. You have any idea how many stores I had to go to, to find this?" Something tells me I had better not answer that. "I guess I should be glad he didn't assume I already had something…" Her voice trails off and I look up to see what caught her attention.

"Tell me you don't know him?" I nod my head at the muscle that just entered the club.

"I don't know him, but I _do_ know the guy he works for."

_Great. Just fucking great._ I prop my head on my right hand. This is so not gonna end well. "Just how do you know who he works for?" I turn my head to look at her, one brow raised in question.

"He makes them all wear that stupid medallion. Thinks it makes them all look like they're from Jersey or some stupid shit like that."

"You see the guy?"

She sits up a bit straighter and cranes her neck to see around the men standing just inside the door. "No, I don't see him. Huh." She sucks on her teeth. "Never thought he'd be the type to give his men time to themselves."

Before I can even respond, she wraps her left hand around the back of my neck and pulls my face around so she can attack my mouth. It takes a full three seconds for my brain to kick into gear and get with the program and start kissing her back. Even though this is just for the cover, in the back of my head is a voice that sounds an awful lot like Dean saying this is wrong, wrong, so very fucking _wrong_ and that Dean's never going to forgive me if – _when_ – he finds out. I tell that voice to shut the fuck up and do what I know is expected by the men watching: I cup her left butt cheek in my right hand, squeezing a bit just to feel her squirm against me and use my left hand to tilt her head to an angle that allows me to control the kiss better. I can tell the instant it stops being about the cover and becomes about her enjoying kissing a man and I can't stop the thrill of masculine pride when she shudders in my arms and gives a tiny moan.

We break for air and she wiggles until she can get her hands between us. I stop her just as she begins to unbuckle my belt. "Jaimie-"

"Let me." She sounds completely wrecked and now I'm wondering if that shudder wasn't an orgasm. If it was, it'd be the first time I've ever gotten someone off just by kissing them.

"Not here," I grit out. _Not with you_ , I don't say but I know she hears from the look she gives me through her lashes.

"He'd understand."

I just shake my head. "I still can't." She nods her understanding and shifts until she's sitting upright rather than sprawled across my lap. 

"So, how about that drink?" She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and actually bats her eyelashes at me pulling a deep chested chuckle from me.

I open my mouth to respond but am stopped when Bryan, one of Trent's personal bodyguards, approaches. "Marcus, the boss wants to see ya."

Jaimie frowns. "He was just about to buy me a drink."

"Sorry, Sweetheart, that'll have to wait." He jerks his head in the direction of the office. "Now, Marcus." Jaimie continues to sit there, pouting at us. Just as I shift to push her from my lap, Bryan heaves a sigh and shoves his hand into a pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. He peels off three bills and hands them to Jaimie, flicking them out of reach when she goes to take them. "You know how this works."

"Yeah, I know," she purrs, looking up at him through her lashes.

Bryan nods. "Good. Now go buy yourself something pretty." He lets her take the bills from his hand.

Jaimie smirks and tucks the bills into her bra. "Oh, I will, Sugar." She doesn't stand so much as slither from my lap and presses herself against Bryan for a moment. "Maybe next time the three of us can actually get that drink?" I've been under with Jaimie before but not when she was playing a sleazy stripper so the tone she's using is new to me and goes straight to my dick. And Bryan's as well, if the growing bulge in his pants is any indication.

He swallows audibly and shifts nervously. "Yeah, sure," he responds, his voice cracking slightly. When Jaimie turns to leave, her smile is one of pure feminine smugness; a smugness that is very much warranted and makes me wonder about the parts of her past I wasn't able to find out about when I had her investigated two years ago.

Bryan clearing his throat brings his presence back to my attention. "Really shouldn't keep the boss waiting," he says before turning on his heel and making his way to one of the back rooms.

With a smirk I get up from my chair, tugging my jacket and sleeves back into place as I make my way to the office. Hopefully Trent's finally decided it's time to let me have some more responsibility. 

The guard standing watch at the door opens it for me and closes it before I've really gotten all the way inside. Trent's office is exactly what you'd expect for the office of a drug lord who uses a sleazy strip joint as his cover. Everywhere I look I'm reminded of the 70s, from the tacky shag carpeting to the ugly wallpaper to the plastic chairs that are supposed to be 'mod' but are really just extremely uncomfortable.

"Marcus!" Trent rounds his desk, one hand extended. "Thank you for coming."

I take his hand and give it a squeeze. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Trent?"

"Adam, please." He smiles at me and I nod my agreement. "Sit, sit." He motions me into one of the chairs facing his desk. "Can I get you a drink?" My eyes narrow as I try and figure out why this guy is acting like I'm some VIP who has lowered himself to honor him with a visit. "It's top shelf scotch, which I'm told by my bartenders is your preferred drink."

"Sure." Can't hurt to have a drink with the guy, right? I mean, I've done a lot worse to sell a cover. "But just a splash."

"Oh?" He turns to grin at me. "Made an appointment with Candy for later, didja?" With a wink he hands me a glass with three fingers of amber colored liquid in it.

"Not exactly," I hedge. I take a sip and savor the burn of the expensive liquor traveling down my throat. "My old lady doesn't like it when I come home stinking of liquor."

"Ah." He settles in his chair behind his desk. "Is she why you haven't paid any of the girls any attention?"

"Yeah. We've been together a while but she still gets jealous. Really doesn't like me spending my time in places like this." I wave the hand holding the glass in a circle to indicate the club.

"I totally understand." He leans forward and rests his arms on top of the desk. "But understand that I couldn't be sure of you until I saw you with Candy just now."

It's no more than I thought. "I understand." Although I really don't understand why my willingness to suck face with a stripper put him at ease. You'd think the opposite would be true, that my ability to resist the girls' feminine charms would tip the scales in my favor and show him that he can depend on me to get the job done

Trent smiles at me. "Good. Now, I have something I need you to do for me."

I return his smile. "Anything. Just name it."

He picks up a folder and hands it to me. "I need him killed."

Only years of undercover work keep me from flinching at his statement. I take the folder from him and flip it open. Inside is a picture and a dossier. For a split second I was afraid the target would be someone I know, so I'm very relieved that I'm looking at a complete stranger instead. "May I ask why?" I look up at him through my bangs.

Trent shrugs. "You can, but I'm not gonna tell ya. The reason's irrelevant."

_If you say so._ "You're the boss. You got a preferred method?"

He sits back, looking thoughtful. "Make it look like an accident. Don't need a bunch of questions, ya know?"

I nod. "Got it. Anything else?"

"Yeah." Now he looks uncomfortable. "If he's with anyone, they're not to be touched."

My eyebrows climb my forehead. "If he's with someone, I'll wait until he's alone. Can't make it look like an accident if he's got company."

Trent shakes his head. "Not what I meant." He leans forward again. "Just him; no one else."

"Yeah, I got it." I flip the folder closed. "That it?"

He swallows and I tilt my head as it becomes obvious that this order isn't sitting well with him. "Yeah. That's it. Call when it's done. I want visible proof."

"Sure." I stand and turn to the door.

"Marcus." I stop with one hand on the knob. "I need this done quickly, quietly and _soon_."

I look at him over my shoulder. "Not a problem, sir." He nods and spins his chair around to look out the two-way mirror that overlooks one of the VIP rooms. With a shake of my head, I exit the room.

As I make my way across the club floor, I make eye contact with Jaimie and signal that I'm leaving. She nods slightly to show she understands. Slipping sunglasses in place, I step from the dark of the club into the bright sunlight of a cloudless summer day and make my way back to the hovel I'm calling home while on this assignment.

Since Trent is providing my current living quarters, the first thing I do when I get there is check to make sure there are no new bugs. There haven't been, yet, and all the current ones are in the main rooms which leaves me the bathroom and bedroom as areas where I can talk freely. I know I should be suspicious of that but when I really need to talk to my team and don't want to or can't go out for a walk it comes in handy.

I get down on my knees to reach under the bed, lifting the loose board and removing the lockbox I've stashed there. I turn around and lean back against the bed, taking my cell out to call Dean.

The instant I hear Dean grunt _"Speak"_ in my ear, all my blood flows south and for several seconds I'm at a loss as to why I called. _"Yeah, well, fuck you too, buddy!"_ he snarls and it seems to snap me out of it.

"I was finally invited in." I swear my voice _did not_ crack.

_"Yeah? Good for you."_

"You'll come get the details?"

_"I'll send James. Tomorrow good for you?"_ Not really, no but what can I say? _"Good."_ He doesn't let me actually respond to his question.

It takes me several seconds to realize he's actually hung up. "Damnit!" Something's gotta give, and soon, or I'm going to risk my cover to go to Dean's and, as Jaimie said, 'fuck him back into a good mood'.

Thumping my head back against the mattress, I press the heel of my hand against my crotch in an attempt to get rid of my erection. When that doesn't work, I return my cell to the lockbox and the lockbox to its hiding place under the bed before climbing to my feet and making my way to the bathroom, pulling off my clothes as I go.

Despite the fact that the building was built decades before I was born, the water pressure is a thing of beauty and the hot water lasts for-fucking-ever, not that I'm using hot water tonight. Conversely, the cold water can get absolutely freezing and tonight the conundrum is finding the happy medium that'll help me get rid of my hard-on without resorting to jerking off to thoughts of Dean bent over my desk.

After several minutes of standing under the spray and letting it beat down on my head, it becomes obvious that it's not gonna work. With a sigh, I wrap my fingers around my erection and slowly begin to stroke my hand up and down. Knowing I need to make this quick, I settle on my favorite fantasy of Dean: the first time we fucked. 

It happened just a couple of days after he joined the team. The case had been difficult, despite it being concluded in just a few days, and he found me drowning my sorrows in a bottle of top shelf scotch and helped himself to a glass. We didn't really talk, just kept drinking until the bottle was almost empty. He surprised me more than a little when he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. I can't remember exactly what happened next, just that it was some of the best sex I've ever had. We've been fucking ever since, except for when he and Jaimie hooked up after that case where she had to 'partake' in order to keep her cover. Their 'fling' didn't last long; Dean was just trying to get back at me for a comment I made that I don't even really remember making, and he's been back in my bed ever since.

The memory does the trick and within about five minutes my climax rolls over me like a wave and my come is being washed away down the drain.

Leaning heavily on one hand against the tiled wall, it takes longer than I care to admit for me to recover but once I do, I quickly finish washing before turning the water off with an almost savage twist of my wrist and stepping from the shower and drying myself off.

Wrapping a towel carelessly around my hips, I attack my wet hair with another. It's times like this that I really consider following Ty and Dean's lead and just shaving it all off. But then I picture my grandfather and father and how they didn't have the best looking heads once they went completely bald and I decide to keep my hair right where it is.

Once satisfied my hair is as dry as I can get it without using a hairdryer - no one's ever going to be able to accuse _me_ of being a metrosexual - I drop the towel I've been using on it and the one around my waist on the floor and head back into the bedroom to fish a pair of jeans out of the duffel I brought with me when I first went under. I _never_ fully unpack while under because you never know when you'll have to leave in a hurry and I hate shopping for new clothes. Pulling the jeans up over my hips I leave them undone while I putter around looking for something to do until I can go to sleep without rousing suspicion.

Of course what I really want to do is head back to the club and give Jaimie the info about my assignment but since Dean said tomorrow I have to force myself to wait. And since I've never had a lot of patience when it comes to things like this I soon find myself pacing a line from one window to another. Afraid I'll wear a rut in the old hardwood floor, I force myself to finish dressing and head out for some food.

Being picky about where I eat is a disadvantage at times like this. I can't go to the same place too often, not even as myself, because if the wrong person comes looking they'll find it much easier to find me than it really should be. But Trent stashing me deep in Chinatown means I lucked out in that area – there's an overabundance of better than average places to eat.

I pick one I've only been to once before, take a table in the back, order the special from the pretty waitress and then sit back and wait for my food. When it arrives, I take my time eating; just doing my best to put off having to return to my empty temporary abode for as long as possible.

I'm paying the check when a guy walks in who reminds me way too much of Dean and I have to actually force myself to turn right when leaving the restaurant instead of left. The urge to break cover and go to Dean is nearly overwhelming and leaves me feeling slightly breathless like I've just jogged up five flights.

Curling my hands into fists tight enough that I wince at the sting of my nails biting into the flesh of my palms, I keep putting one foot in front of the other, telling myself this'll be over soon and then I can do all the nasty things I've been thinking about to Dean.

The rest of the evening finds me relieving a local bar of its supply of whiskey while keeping a barstool from floating away. Eventually I feel like I'm sufficiently drunk enough to sleep without dreaming of Dean and his wicked, wicked mouth and stumble from the bar. Only downside to being this drunk is I accidentally on purpose turn in the wrong direction when I exit the bar. And of course I pretend to not notice until I'm several blocks away.

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, I slump against the window of some store and close my eyes. This is quickly becoming ridiculous. It's not like Dean and I have never been apart before. And this isn't the first time he's been pissed at me while one of us was undercover. If I don't get a handle on this soon I'll be putting not only the operation but myself in danger.

With a deep sigh, I push off the wall and force myself to head back to my temporary home. On the way I once again try and figure out why Dean's pissed and what I can do to get him to forgive me. Unfortunately I'm not able to come up with an answer to either question by the time I arrive at my door.

I've had an off and on problem with insomnia throughout my life, and being under definitely makes it worse than normal. A doctor once told me that stress is a pretty common cause and what can be more stressful than pretending to be a bad guy in order to catch some? He even told me I should consider finding a new line of work. I never went to him again.

I love my job. Love that I can get these bastards to trust me enough to hang themselves. And I _especially_ love that I can remove them from the streets, even if that leaves an opening for a dozen more to spring up. Job security at its finest. 

I drink partly to help me sleep normally, and that's even more true when I'm under. It usually works, although sometimes it only lets me get _just_ enough to keep from falling asleep on my feet when staying alert is critical. But tonight it doesn't work and I end up tossing and turning for longer than I care to admit. 

Eventually I get out of bed and sit at the table. Cleaning my guns which doesn't take as long as I'd like, and so I decide to test myself and close my eyes while breaking down and reassembling them. 

The morning drags on with me glancing at the clock every few seconds silently urging the minute hand to move faster. I'm one big bundle of nerves when the clock finally says it's noon, and I grab my jacket and head back to the club with a sigh of relief. 

When I arrive at the club Brian's guarding the door. He grins at me like we share a secret and it sets my teeth on edge that this man thinks I have a thing for one of the dancers. "Back for more, eh, Marcus?" he chuckles. "Thought your old lady was the jealous type."

His last statement confirms that Trent talks to him, which makes him a bigger threat than I had previously thought. "Yeah, well, she's PMSing or some shit like that and besides, Candy's one _hot_ piece of ass. Not to mention she kisses like she invented it."

"Yeah, that's why the boss keeps her around despite the fact that she comes and goes as she pleases." And that answers the question as to how Jaimie was able to get in to see me.

Today Jaimie's on the main stage and I have to say the girl's got some moves. She really knows how to work the room and the pole. Most dancers just swing in a circle around the pole or use it to keep their back straight when they do squats but not Jaimie. She actually climbs it and does tricks while wrapped around it, topless the entire time, and it just blows my fucking mind.

I manage to catch her eye just as she's finishing her set and tilt my head to indicate where I'm planning on sitting. She nods and exits the stage to get dressed before joining me at a table in the back corner.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she hisses, lowering herself into my lap.

"Well, hello to you, too." I can't keep the censure at her tone from my voice. I may be a more easy-going boss than most but I have never allowed my people to speak to me like that, well, not while on the clock. Dean has been known to take that tone with me but it's always been while arguing about personal shit and while off the clock.

Jaimie frowns at me. "He's even _more_ pissed after talking to you yesterday. I didn't think that was possible so what the fuck did you say to him?"

"Not a damn thing that wasn't case related, I swear!"

She huffs and gives me a look that clearly says all men are idiots. "And that's your problem right there." She loops her arms around my neck, which effectively puts her tits in my face. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of having to shake my tits for drunk strangers two days in a row?"

"Dean didn't tell you?" I can't help but smile at her unladylike snort. "Our little show yesterday was just what Trent was waiting for before bringing me in. Although I think he's still testing me."

"Yeah?" Her fingers toy with the hair on the back of my head and she uses the motion to push my face between her breasts.

I press a kiss to her breastbone before pulling back enough to say, "Why don't we take this somewhere a bit more private?"

She giggles and slips from my lap, taking my hand and leading me toward one of the private lap dance rooms. I quirk a brow at her while shutting the door behind us.

"Don't worry." She sits down on one of the couches and removes her shoes with a groan. "One of the techs owes me and so this room's always unobserved when I'm working."

I nod my head and sit down next to her. "Makes sense." I reach into the inside pocket of my coat and pull out the file Trent gave me yesterday. "He wants this guy killed. Wants it to look like an accident."

She takes the file and flips through it. When she looks back up at me one brow has almost disappeared into her hairline. "Trent say why?" I don't dignify that with a response. She rolls her eyes. "Of course he didn't. That would make our job too easy. What do you want us to do?"

"Remember what we did with Sykes for Dean back when he was under with The Venice Kings?"

"Yeah, but that won't work here. You said Trent wants it to look like an accident."

"I trust you to figure something out. I'll need visible proof it's been done. Oh, and he's the only one to be hurt. If he's with someone, wait until he's alone."

She sighs deeply. "It could take a while. Especially if we're not allowed to do something to his car like cut his brake lines."

"Put everything else on hold until this is taken care of. I'm done being here, Jaimie."

She nods. "Okay. I think Ty just finished a case, although he may have court this week. Dean, well, he's not doing much of anything except a pretty damn good impression of you when one of us goes off book."

I can feel a headache building behind my eyes and rub at my temples with two fingers. "What did I do, Jaimie?"

"If you don't know, then I'm not gonna tell you. I don't want Dean pissed at me, too."

I drop my hands and stare at her. "What a totally female thing to say."

She just shrugs, totally unconcerned for my emotional wellbeing. "This is between the two of you. Although if it goes on for much longer I just might have to knock your heads together." I stand and begin pacing the room. "Seriously, Carter, you both swore this wouldn't disrupt the flow of the team."

"This isn't all me!" I exclaim spinning to face her with my arms extended to my sides.

"I know." She sighs again, her frown deepening. "And I know-" She holds up one hand palm out when I open my mouth to speak. "-that everything was flowing smoothly until a few weeks back but the fact remains that it is _your fault_ Dean's pissed so it's up to you to fix it."

"If I knew what I did, I would! Believe me; I don't like knowing he's pissed at me; especially when I don't know why!"

Jaimie gets a thoughtful look on her face. I start hoping she'll clue me in on what I did, but before she can make up her mind the door is thrown open and another of Trent's guards is standing there. "You've been warned about using this room, Candy," he all but snarls at her.

She sniffs and tilts her head back. "The others are occupied, Bull. Besides, Marcus here is one of the boss' men. Aren't you, Marcus?"

I nod my head and give Bull a look that I hope conveys my annoyance at his interruption.

Bull proves to be just as thick-headed as his namesake. "Doesn't matter. Boss says to not use this room, you don't use this room."

Jaimie huffs. "Fine." She bounces to her feet and flounces from the room.

Bull and I have a staring contest for several seconds before I realize the file isn't anywhere in sight. I leave the room wondering where she hid it. Certainly not on her person, not with the skimpy outfit she's wearing. 

"Boss wants to see you," Bull says when I start to walk back to my table.

Biting back a sigh of frustration, I head for Trent's office knowing this won't be pretty.

The same guard as yesterday opens the door for me. This time I make sure I'm fully in the room before he shuts it.

"Marcus!" Trent calls a greeting from his place behind his desk where he's getting a lap dance from a girl I haven't ever seen before. It makes me wonder if this is his interview technique. "Have a seat." He motions to the chairs facing his desk.

Lowering myself into the same chair as yesterday, I do my best to not stare at the girl. I'm fairly sure she isn't giving a lap dance so much as rubbing off against his leg.

Finally she finishes and Trent pats her butt while helping her stand up. "You want?" he asks, pointing at the girl whose hand he's still holding.

I shake my head. "I'm good."

He chuckles. "I bet you are. Candy's great, ain't she?" He tugs on the girl's hand and shoves his tongue down her throat when she bends down. "Your first shift started ten minutes ago," he says when he ends the kiss. "Head over to the dressing room and see the House Mother." She beams like she just won the lottery and all but skips from the room.

Trent watches her go, then sighs wistfully when the door closes behind her. "Ever notice how we keep getting older and yet they keep getting younger?"

"Is that why you asked to see me, sir?" Only years of working undercover keep me from gagging at calling him 'sir'.

Trent slaps his desk and laughs. "'Sir'? Oh, Marcus, how you amuse me!" He shifts in his chair and it is obvious now that he wasn't getting a lap dance from that girl, he was fucking her. "No, I called you in here to see if your presence in my club means you've completed that task I set you."

_Of course he did._ "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, Adam. These things take time to set up much less execute."

In the blink of an eye Trent goes from a kid playing at being a baddie to being the dangerous son of a bitch I know he is. He leans forward over his desk, his eyes narrowed on my face. "Then I don't want to see you in here until it's done. Am I clear?"

I play my part perfectly and swallow nervously. "Perfectly, sir."

And just like that he's back to being the wannabe baddie. He grins at me. "Excellent." He stands. "So, you'll be getting right on that, right?"

"Of course." I also stand and allow him to walk me to the door.

"Great. Hopefully you'll get it done soon since it appears Candy has caught your eye and we never know when she'll disappear again." He opens the door and holds it for me. "Have a good day, Marcus."

"You too, sir." I step through and stand there for a moment blinking at what just happened.

A questioning grunt from the guard at the door has my feet moving. Knowing I need to inform Jaimie that we won't be able to meet here until it's done, I head back to my table and hope Trent doesn't mind if I stick around for a while longer.

"I thought you left." Jaimie settles herself in my lap and I have to wonder if she's forgotten how to sit in a chair.

"Soon."

"What'd Trent want?" She plays with my hair and gives every appearance of trying to seduce me which makes me admire her dedication to her cover. 

"How do you know about that?"

"Really, Carter. I saw you leave his office just now."

"Right." Damnit. This thing with Dean has me so fucking addled, not to mention Trent's split personality. "He doesn't want me back here until it's done. If Dean insists on being a brat and refuses to see me for intel then it'll have to be Ty."

"I can meet you in a dank alley just as well as they can."

I have to smile at the hurt note in her tone. "Of course you can. I just suggested Ty because if anyone from here is following me and they see us together…" I purposely leave the sentence unfinished knowing she knows what I mean.

She nods and stands up. "Okay. We'll be in touch." She leans down and presses her lips to mine before smirking at me and turning to head over to a table of what appears to be out of town businessmen having a working lunch. I sit and watch her charm them for several minutes before noticing that Brian is watching me rather intensely so I give him a nod and a tiny smile before getting up and leaving the club.

It's extremely obvious right away that I'm being followed and since I don't want Trent to get any more paranoid about me, I pretend I don't know I'm being followed. I decide to make Trent think I'm researching how to kill the man he wants dead and lead my tail on a merry chase across the city.

Two days later I receive a package with info on the man Trent wants dead. His name's Troy Mathews, he's twenty-three years old and is dating Trent's sister. Or rather he was. Stacy Trent broke up with him when she discovered he was seeing another girl on the side. Except he wasn't cheating. The other girl was Amanda Jordan, Troy's cousin. She was raped about five months ago and went to Troy when she found out she was pregnant. He let her cry on his shoulder for hours and sometimes ended up sleeping on her couch.

Stacy didn't let him explain and went to cry on her brother's shoulder. And being the dangerous SOB he is, his first reaction is to have the man killed.

Ty's note with the file tells me that Troy was unaware of his ex-girlfriend's brother's occupation and is very grateful for the assistance in staying alive.

According to Ty, Trent has been trying to kill this guy since Stacy first started dating him in high school and doubled his efforts when he discovered they were sexually active. None of my team is sure if Stacy knows what her brother does or that he hasn't ever approved of Troy or not, not that it matters.

Along with Ty's note is one from Maynard urging me to hurry up and close the case. Apparently Dean's pissy mood has reached his ears via other undercovers he's come across. Maynard seems to be operating under the impression that I can control Dean and his moods and makes a (not so) veiled threat of taking Dean's badge if he so much as _thinks_ of roughing up any more cops.

A couple of weeks later, Ty shows up for our meet and gives me the news I've been waiting for. "It's going down this weekend."

"He's gonna ask how."

"We figured that." He hands me a flash drive. "All the info's on there. Pictures will be delivered once it's done."

I nod, my eyes darting around looking for, and finding, each of the four men following me; two from Trent and two from Maynard. "Troy's okay with disappearing?"

"He's looking forward to it, actually."

"Good. What about Stacy?"

Ty shrugs. "Can't very well drag her in for questioning without tipping off Trent, now can we?" I just glare at him. He rolls his eyes. "Jaimie joined her book club and has been cozying up to her. If she's aware of who her brother is, she hides it well."

"All right. Talk to her again after Troy 'dies'."

"Will do." He claps me on the shoulder, turns and walks back the way he came. 

I lead my tails on a circular trip through Chinatown, managing to lose the two from Trent for the first time in weeks. Feeling safer with just the two from Maynard watching my back, I head back to the hovel I'm currently calling home. I think wistfully about my own house and how I want to bend Dean over every flat surface, and put him up against a few too.

I take a quick shower before tumbling onto the bed and, for the first time in _months_ , sleep soundly through the night.

Two days later finds me standing in a shallow doorway in an alley with Ty, exchanging my burn phone for an identical one that has video of 'me' bribing a waitress to pour 'peanut oil' on Troy's salad and him having a 'fatal allergic reaction' due to him being allergic to peanuts.

"This is perfect, Ty," I say, an evil grin gracing my face.

"Think he'll ask for a souvenir?"

"Doubtful. Can't be an accident if a body part goes missing, now can it?"

Ty shrugs. "Suppose not." He pokes his head out of our hiding place. "All clear. See ya in a couple of days?"

I nod. "Hopefully this will be enough for Maynard." 

I walk away from the meet with Ty with my spirits lifted, thinking that this should be enough to put Trent away as I head toward the club. Hopefully, we can even get him to flip on his supplier, who's the bigger fish that we're actually after.

My confidence that this is almost over must show on my face as satisfaction that I've finished the job Trent gave me, because he takes one look at me and a huge grin breaks over his face. "It's done, then? He's dead?" he asks with such glee I'm hard pressed to remember he's actually a very evil man who's kept me from my real life for far too long, not to mention forcing me to make out with one of my team (and the wrong one at that).

"You told me not to return until it was," I remind him, pulling the phone from my pocket. "I think you'll find something very entertaining on here." I toss him the phone and help myself to some of his scotch before settling into one of the chairs facing his desk.

He winks at me and laughs before thumbing through the saved videos.

_"I'll pay you $500 if you pour this oil on that salad."_ My voice sounds tinny coming from the tiny speaker on the phone.

_"I don't know, sir. What if he's allergic?"_ Trent laughs harder at that and I know he's figured out how I 'killed' Troy.

_"It's just a harmless prank. His allergy isn't life threatening. All that'll happen is his face will get puffy and splotchy."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Positive. The woman with him is my sister-"_ Trent's head snaps up and he narrows his eyes on my face. _"-and while I don't like him, I certainly don't want him dead."_ Trent returns his eyes to the screen but he's not as excited about it as before.

The waitress sighs. _"Okay. But if this goes wrong-"_

_"It won't,"_ I speak over her.

Trent looks up at me, one brow raised. "Where'd you get five hundred bucks?"

I shrug. "Here and there."

He places the phone on the desk and sits back in his chair, looking at me thoughtfully. _Crap!_ "I've been wondering about something."

"Yeah?" I force myself to sip from the glass. My heart begins to race. I just know my cover's been blown and I mentally begin plotting my escape.

"Yeah. You said once before that your old lady doesn't like you coming home smelling of booze." I raise my eyebrows and wait for him to get to his point. "And yet you never go see anyone, much less some chick. Plus I gave you an apartment because you said you needed a place to stay."

_Fuck!_ I knew that would come back to bite me in the ass. I force the panic down and chuckle. His face darkens at the possibility of my laughing at him. "That's really simple to explain." I pause to take another sip, wetting my suddenly dry throat. "Deana and I have been having 'issues', her words. I went looking for this job because she kicked me out, _again_. The day you called me in here to give me that assignment-" I nod my head at the phone lying on his desk. "-I had planned on going to see her and, hopefully, get back on her good side."

He inclines his head in understanding. "Ah. And you decided to wait until you'd completed it before going to see her?"

"Yes, sir. I try and not let my 'work' come anywhere near her. That's not to say she doesn't know, because she does and that's part of the problem."

"She want ya to walk away?"

I nod. "We've been together off and on for almost twenty years. She wants a ring and a baby."

He purses his lips and picks the phone back up. "Maybe you should make this the last one and give her what she wants." I shrug and make a face like that idea leaves a bad taste in my mouth and he laughs again. "Let's see what else you have for show and tell, shall we?"

He presses his thumb against the screen and the sounds of people eating, talking and laughing is suddenly interrupted by the sounds of panic and someone shouting for a doctor or an ambulance. Several minutes pass with the panicked sounds increasing before a siren can be heard gradually getting louder in the background. Another minute or two later Dean's calm and assertive voice cuts through the panicked crowd demanding people move back and if anyone knows the man on the ground. The woman Troy was dining with says his name and is asked if he has any allergies. She doesn't verbally answer but I know she shook her head, tears coursing down her cheeks, a look of anguish on her pretty face. There's quiet for a few seconds, maybe a minute, and then Dean announces, "There's nothing more we can do. I'm sorry." A woman's agonized wail can be heard along with the sounds of Dean and Ty loading Troy on the stretcher, telling her that she's welcome to ride with them and then silence as the video ends.

Trent hands the phone back. "So, he's really dead?"

"He is. I have a friend in the coroner's office and she sent me this." I scroll through my pictures and then turn the phone where he can see a picture of Troy laid out on an autopsy table with a recently sutured 'Y' incision on his chest.

A very evil grin curves the corners of his mouth. "Very good. I knew I could count on you."

I smile back and finish off the scotch in my glass. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

He frowns down at his desk and shuffles some papers before sighing and looking up, an apologetic expression on his face. "Not at this time, no. I may have something in a day or two, though." His lips twist into a leering grin causing a shiver to skate down my spine. "If you want to go visit Deana, I won't stop you. Just keep your phone handy."

With a nod, I get up. "Will do." I set the glass down on the sideboard and exit the office, keeping my expression neutral until I'm positive I'm clear of prying eyes.

I was hoping to get some intel about _something_ – a drop, a buy, anything to give me enough leverage to get out if the murder charge isn't enough.

Knowing I'm still being followed, I head back to my apartment, just barely refraining from slamming the door behind me.

I pull my phone from its hiding place and text Ty about meeting Trent and my intentions to take what information I have to Maynard. Less than a minute later, Ty replies that he thinks it's a good idea for me to slip away and see Maynard. I read between the lines and know that Dean's making life even more unbearable for him and Jaimie. I respond that I'll do that either later today or in the morning, then return the phone to its spot under the bed and head to the bathroom for a shower.

While getting dressed I decide that since there's no reason for me to wait to speak to Maynard I might as well get my answer _now_. Hailing a taxi goes a long way toward losing my tail, which doesn't mean I don't have to still be careful in approaching the main station house of the LAPD.

All this sneaking around has me thinking seriously for the first time _ever_ about retiring. It's exhausting pretending to be someone, and some _thing_ , I'm not, not to mention all the things I have to do to make sure my cover doesn't get blown.

I walk right past Maynard's assistant and into his office, just like I always do. Thankfully he's alone.

"Please, come on in, Carter," he says sarcasm thick in his voice. "One of these days you're going to interrupt something that's none of your goddamn business."

I chuckle and lower myself into one of the chairs in front of his desk. "You're always saying that and in the twenty years I've worked for you, it has yet to happen."

He sighs in resignation and sits back in his chair. "Your luck is bound to run out sooner or later." He scrubs at his face with one hand. "Why are you here, Carter?"

"I got evidence of conspiracy to commit murder."

He shakes his head. "Not enough."

"C'mon, Maynard! Surely we can get him to flip if we offer him a deal. As it stands he's looking at twenty-five to life. Man like Trent won't want to spend that much time behind bars."

"Can't do it, Carter. We need you to get this guy's supplier."

A headache begins to build behind my eyes and I rub at my temple with two fingers. "My team's slowly imploding, Maynard. They need me to rein them in."

Maynard won't meet my eyes. "I've heard about how Dean's been a bit wilder than usual but I just can't do it. I can't let you come in just yet."

"You do realize that I'm so distracted by Dean's behavior that I might slip up and risk the whole thing?"

"Guilt won't work here, Carter. This is your job. Shut all thoughts of your team away and do your damn job!"

Pressing my lips tightly closed, I jump up from my chair and definitely _do not_ stomp away like a child. 

Now that I'm in LA proper, I'm fighting the temptation to say "fuck it all" and head to Dean's to fuck us both back into a good mood. The only thing keeping me from giving into my baser urges is knowing that I can help plug one pipeline for drugs into my city. I can remove one more scumbag from the streets and maybe sleep a bit easier at night knowing that for a while there will be fewer fatal overdoses from his product.

Not that it's ever really that easy. For every one bad guy we put away, ten more spring up in his place. Some days I feel like I'm trying to swim upstream in the middle of a fucking flash flood. Dean has been keeping me grounded and now I find out that I've been keeping _him_ grounded and it's fucking messing with my fucking mind.

Forcing myself to tell the taxi driver to take me back to Chinatown is one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I know that Dean is hurting and I can ease that hurt but I don't have that luxury right now. Yet another point against Trent. If I could arrest him for keeping me from my lover, I would.

Trent's tail manages to pick me back up shortly after the taxi lets me out just inside the boundaries of Chinatown. If that punk knew just how easy it is to lose two goons as big as the two currently following me while I shop for an apology gift for my 'girl'. A slightly manic laugh bubbles up in my throat when Trent's dogs get held up by all the people shopping in the tiny store I'm using as a short cut. Really, it's _way_ too easy.

A niggling at the base of my skull has me detouring back the way I came instead of heading straight for my apartment. Luckily my suspicions prove false and there's no one from Trent following me, although Maynard does still have a couple of guys watching my back. I sigh with relief when I enter my apartment before stopping dead in my tracks.

Someone, most likely Trent's men, has torn the place apart. Furniture is overturned, fixtures and dishes are smashed, my clothes are strewn all over and some are even cut up, but what _really_ worries me is that the bed has been shoved out of place. Pushing down the urge to rush to make sure the lockbox is still secure, I force myself to call Trent.

_"Yeah?_ He sounds distracted and I wonder if he's 'interviewing' another new dancer.

"Someone trashed my place."

_"Yeah? Maybe you shoulda locked your door."_

"How d'ya know they didn't break the door down?"

_"Would you be calling me if they did?"_

"Probably not."

_"Didn't think so. Plus my guys are still outside and you don't seem like the type to stick around if you saw that your front door had been busted in."_ Does he mean the guys who did this, or the two lug heads I lost in the market?

"What makes you say that?"

_"You and me, we're the same."_ Not even close, dick head.

"You think?"

_"Yeah. Why you think I hired an old fart like you, huh? I have my pick of young up and comers but I_ chose you _."_

And it's a good thing he did because I don't think Dean or Ty would have been able to last this long. Of course Trent would probably already be behind bars if one of them had been the one to pull this case.

_"You want me to send someone to help clean?"_

"Naw. I got it. Luckily I don't have much. Or rather, I _didn't_." He chuckles at my joke.

_"Let me know if you need anything, okay?"_

"Yeah, sure." I punch the phone off with more force than necessary and set about cleaning everything up.

I have to actively keep myself from looking to see if the loose board under where the bed used to be has been tampered with until I clear the whole place. I'm even more suspicious when I don't find any new bugs. Why would Trent trash my place and not add any new bugs? In fact, most of the old ones are gone. Maybe Trent's not the one who ordered this? Maybe someone else has had eyes and ears on me?

Once I'm satisfied that I can check whether everything's where it should be without being witnessed, I pry the loose board up, noticing that no one's touched it since the last time I did. The lockbox is still in its hole and my gun, badge, and phone are still inside.

By the time the whole place is put to rights, it's approaching midnight. Pulling the clothes from my body, I collapse face first on top of the covers and sleep the sleep of the dead.

The next couple of days are a study in frustrated patience. Waiting around has never been my strong suit. It's one of the _many_ issues Nicole and I had. Luckily my patience pays off before I'm tempted to do something stupid and I get a phone call from Trent late on the third day.

"You called?" I say a little more than ten minutes later when Bryan ushers me into a room in the back.

I've never been to this part of the building, and I'm feeling slightly hopeful that this means I'll get to slap some cuffs on Trent's wrists soon. I take a quick look around, getting the lay of the land. If this goes south, I need to be able to escape without really looking.

The room obviously used to be a drinking establishment's storeroom, but now it's being used to store guns and drugs. And possibly some of Trent's men, too, considering the cots pushed into a far corner. Whether they're sleeping here because they're on the run from the law or to keep an eye on the guns and drugs, I can't say.

"Yeah. I got a job for ya." Trent doesn't look up from the pile of papers and surveillance photos that litter the table that takes up much of the room.

I come to stand at his shoulder and glance down at the table and my heart skips a beat as what he's planning becomes clear.

"I think it's time to eliminate the middle man. And to do that we need to take him out." He stabs a finger at a picture of the man we've suspected to be his supplier. "And to do that-" He slides a picture toward me of a pretty woman with her red hair slicked back in a severe ponytail and wearing an impeccably tailored suit. There's what appears to be a Bluetooth in her right ear. "-you need to seduce her."

"Why? Is she the target's girlfriend?" I ask, being deliberately obtuse.

Trent's head snaps up at that and he looks at me for the first times since I entered the room. "No. She's his head of security. He doesn't trust men all that much so all his bodyguards are women. Plus if he's in the company of beautiful women, he can go out without people noticing he has security."

"So, why should I seduce her?"

"She sets all the access codes. She's too smart to use anything obvious so get to know her. Find out what other numbers she might use."

_Damnit!_ Seducing this woman's going to take _forever_. I've already been under for close to eight months and, while that's really not all that long, it is taking its toll on my team, not to mention my sex life. "If she's his head of security she probably spends a lot of time in his company."

"Yeah, she does. _However_ -" Trent grins at me, making me think that I don't ever want to meet him in a dark alley. "She has Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. Tuesdays she spends running personal errands and Wednesdays she spends at home."

"If you've been able to gather that much intel on her then why haven't you been able to figure out the codes?"

"Because she hides the keypad when she punches in her PIN. And none of my guys have been able to get close enough to her to figure out what she might use as the code."

"You think she's into older men?"

"It's possible. I've never seen her with a man, so…" He shrugs.

"It's gonna take time to get to know her that well. Mind if I try something else, instead?"

"Whatever works best for you." He hands me her photo along with an itinerary. I tuck both into my pocket and return my gaze to the photos on the table. "Is there something else I can help you with?" Trent asks, annoyance heavy in his tone.

I frown up at him. "No. Just waiting to hear the rest of the plan."

Trent shares a laugh with his men. "You have your orders. Get going." He dismisses me with an almost absent-minded wave of his hand.

Being dismissed so summarily is very frustrating. It's almost like he thinks I'm too old to hold my own. I'm very tempted to show him just what I can do, but I repress that urge and leave the club. His continued reluctance to trust me makes my already bad mood even worse.

A couple of hours later, Ty and I are standing in an alley exchanging information. "Trent wants me to seduce her." I hand him the picture. "Only problem is I've already been under nearly eight months and the kind of seduction he's talking about could very well push that to over a year."

"Seducing her won't be a problem, Carter."

My brows lower over my nose. "Why not?"

"She's a cop."

I blink at him. "She's what?"

He chuckles. "It figures the feds would have someone in our backyard and not tell us, right?"

"She's a fed." Great. Just effing great. Having a fed thrown into the mix is bound to make an already complicated situation even worse to the point where it'll be difficult to tell the bad guys from the good.

"Yep. I met her once coupla years back, before you. Coulda sworn we agreed to stay in touch to avoid stepping on toes."

"This is just perfect. Trent's already expecting me to leave the area so I think I'll go see Maynard. Maybe even pay the Federal Bureau of Intimidation a visit."

"Tread lightly, Carter. Remember what happened with Dean coupla years ago?"

"How could I forget? That's the case that saw Tracy leaving and Jaimie taking her place."

"And you and Dean disappearing for nearly a week. And when you returned-"

"I remember!" I talk over him. Dean had toed the line a little too much during that case and I got scared, thinking he was going to go over it. When it was over we left town for several days and spent nearly a solid fifty-six hours in bed. It was some of the best sex we've ever had.

Ty's chuckle turns suggestive for a bit before he clears his throat. "So, like I was saying, just tread carefully, Carter. Last thing we need is for you to piss off any more feds."

"Yeah." I nod my head. My team knows me too well. I'm sure once Ty breaks the news that I'm going to the federal building, willingly, to ask for a favor, they'll all be on the edge of their seats hoping I don't fuck it up.

"You got anything you want me to relay to the team?" He's still dancing around what we all know but refuse to give voice to in order to avoid it blowing up in our faces.

But I find I'm tired of pretending that Dean and I are being subtle. "Tell Dean to stop being a brat and help me get home before too much more time passes." He nods and we both walk in opposite directions after making sure the coast is clear.

My second visit to Maynard ends a little better than the first, since he agrees that we should go through the FBI to get what Trent wants. A little more than half an hour later, I'm leaving LAPD headquarters with Maynard's admonishment to be careful where I step ringing in my ears.

The meeting with the FBI doesn't go nearly as well. Or even well at all. I guess they're still smarting over that thing with Franzine two years ago.

I arrive at the federal building unannounced about mid-morning and approach the pretty blond sitting at the information desk. "Good morning, sir! How may I assist you?"

I can only blink in the face of his cheerfulness so early in the day. "Um, I need to see…" I falter as I realize that I have no idea where to go from there so I start over. "Sorry. Let me begin again." I pull my badge from my pocket. "I'm Lieutenant Carter Shaw of the LAPD and I'm currently working undercover on a case that has crossed paths with one of yours." Only years of practice studying body language allows me to see the tiny tick that's there and gone in the corner of his right eye. "And my target wants me to get some information from his supplier's head of security." I pull the photo from my other pocket and hand it to him. "Her, to be exact. My contacts tell me she's one of yours. I was wondering if I could speak with her handler."

His smile turns brittle but doesn't waver at all. "I'm sorry, sir, but I have no idea who this woman is." He hands the photo back and the look on his face clearly says that I'm no longer welcome.

"I figured you'd say that." I pull a piece of paper from my pants pocket, unfold it and hand it to him. "As you can see, my captain is requesting assistance from the SAC of this branch. Even has his name." I think about pointing to it on the paper but stop myself in time.

In the face of this, he drops all pretense of being polite. "Please, have a seat over there." He points at a bench against the wall under the pictures of all the Presidents that have served since the FBI was created. As I turn to do as asked, he picks up the phone, punches some numbers, then speaks so softly I can't hear the words before replacing the receiver in the cradle. I fully expect him to tell me that someone will be with me shortly but it's almost as if by alerting the higher ups to my presence, I cease to exist for him.

Never having liked being caught sitting, I stand and stare at the pictures on the wall, just barely refraining from tapping my foot in impatience. I have mentioned I have very little patience, right?

My internal clock tells me I've been waiting nearly an hour when two agents, the same two as from the Franzine case, approach. "Never thought we'd ever see you again, Shaw," Boyle says. Hollis chuckles his agreement.

"Trust me, this is the last place I expected to be today."

Hollis steps to the information desk and takes the photo along with the note from Maynard from the receptionist. "Thanks, Mark," he murmurs before rejoining us.

Boyle and Hollis turn and begin walking back toward the elevators, fully expecting me to follow. "Care to tell us your involvement?" Boyle asks, glancing over his shoulder at me and pressing the button to call the elevator.

"Only if you promise to give me what I'm requesting."

"Like you did for us two years ago?" Boyle asks. One eyebrow climbs his forehead.

I close my eyes to keep from rolling them once we step into the elevator car. "I was protecting my man. He was in a dangerous enough situation and he didn't need the two of you bumbling in and putting his life in anymore danger. Surely you understand."

"Oh, we do," Hollis speaks for the first time. "We have an asset to protect."

"But I already know she's one of you. Y'all didn't know about Dean until you started digging." I know I have them on that when they both grumble under their breath. "I don't need to talk to her. I just need the alarm codes to Bryant's place."

"She happens to be in today so you can ask her yourself," Hollis says in a tone that expresses just how much he's hating this.

"Perfect." I shove my hands in my pockets to avoid the urge to rub them together in glee as the three of us exit the elevator when the doors open.

Trish proves to be just as helpful as her two handlers and stubbornly refuses to give me anything useful. "If you're after the big fish, in this case _my target_ , then why don't you scoop up your guy, book him on the charges you already have and let us do what we do best, hm?"

I'm getting so fucking tired of being condescended to by these jack-offs. "We're willing to let you have the collar but the only way we can keep Trent is if we get him for the drugs, too."

"Didn't you say you have him on conspiracy to commit murder?" Boyle leans back in his chair and smirks at me.

"Circumstantial at best. He could always say that he never _actually_ ordered Troy's death."

"Sounds like a personal problem to me," Trish says, examining her nails as if they're the most interesting things ever.

"Look, I know Trent. He's gonna want to at least be present when Bryant's taken out. If you'll give me the codes, and a time for his men to slip in unnoticed, you can take them both." I lean back in my chair and spread my arms. "You gonna pass up two collars for the price of one?"

The three of them exchange a look that tells me they've worked together a long time. Minutes pass in silence and just as I'm beginning to think they're gonna refuse, Trish sighs and gives me what I asked for. I decide to take the high ground and thank them politely, even shake their hands.

Knowing that Trent's expecting this to take several days, minimum, I head to my _real_ place to check in with Rosie while ignoring the nagging voice in the back of my head that's suggesting I go see Dean.

I let myself into the house through the backyard, taking care to not make a sound; no sense in scaring Rosie with an unexpected noise from the back of the house.

"Oh, Mr. Carter!" she cries when she turns and sees me entering the kitchen. "You're done?"

"Not quite yet. Just wanted to check in with you. Sorry it's been so long."

She waves her hands in a dismissive fashion and makes a noise in the back of her throat. "I knew you'd be gone like this when I accepted the job."

"I know but I've never been gone more than a few months before."

She shrugs. "So this one's not as easy as the others." I'm not surprised she knows exactly what I do. "You'll still get the bad guy in the end, yes?"

I chuckle. "Of course, it's what I do."

"Of course it is." She pats my cheek when she passes me on her way out of the kitchen.

"So, everything's good, here?"

"Of course." She begins dusting the living room. "Any reason you think it isn't?"

I shake my head. If there was anything she felt I needed to know _now_ she would have called Ty to get me a message. "Just checking. Haven't seen you in close to eight months. I felt I needed to touch base with you; see how you're doing and all that."

She beams at me over her shoulder. "I've missed you too, Mr. Carter."

I chuckle at the fact that she knows me so well. "I think I'll take a shower and leave you to it, then."

"Shall I fix you something to eat?"

I pause and think about it. I really have missed her arroz con pollo. "If you have the ingredients for arroz con pollo, I'd love some."

A big grin breaks over her face. "Coming right up." Well, not really since it takes just over an hour to make, but good enough.

Knowing I can take my time, I decide to take a long leisurely shower, standing under the spray until the water turns cold. I even shave properly with shaving cream and a manual razor instead of my usual electric razor. If Trent comments on it, not that I expect him to since by the time he sees me again I'll have my stubble back, I figure I can just tell him I decided to try and make amends with Deana and shaved to present a decent face, hoping it would help pave the way to her listening and forgiving me.

By the time I'm done, the whole house smells wonderful.

I enter the kitchen just as she's pulling the casserole dish from the oven. "Perfect timing."

She grins at me and piles a plate high with the delicious chicken and rice dish. "As always."

"Will you join me?" I ask, taking a seat at the table. "Please? I don't want to eat alone today," I plead when she shakes her head.

With a deep sigh she gives in. "Just this once." Rosie's very traditional – she'll tell me things about her life, but she doesn't feel comfortable sitting at the table with me and sharing a meal, despite my insistence that she's family

We chat about nothing of any importance while we eat and I have to force her to let me help her clean up once we're finished.

Since Rosie comes to clean once a week, and the place is spotless to begin with, I give her the rest of the day off with pay.

After seeing her off, I head to my bedroom where I strip to my boxers before crawling under the covers and attempting to take a nap.

I'm surprised that I fall asleep within moments of my head hitting the pillow but my sleep is anything but restful.

A pleasant dream of Dean and I making up morphs into a nightmare of Trent catching us and discovering our true identities and shooting Dean in the head.

I come awake with a jerk and a gasp, cold sweat drying on my skin. I sit in bed, shaking from the force of the dream, trying to control my breathing for several minutes before I become aware that there's someone in the house with me.

Slipping from the bed, I take my back up gun from the bedside table drawer, quickly check the clip, then pad silently on bare feet down the hall toward the kitchen. The lack of light tells me I slept longer than I expected to but there's just enough for me to approach the intruder undetected.

The swinging door to the kitchen stands open and I slip through the doorway and tip-toe toward the figure that's hunched over the island in the center of the room. Raising my weapon, I press it against the figure's back and growl, "What are you doing in my house?"

"Seriously, Carter?" _Dean._ He turns his head and looks at me from the corner of his eye. "Press it a little harder, I've always wanted to have a muzzle shaped bruise."

I release the hammer and set the safety before setting the gun down on the counter. "Answer my question, Dean."

He huffs a humorless laugh. "Having some of Rosie's arroz con pollo." He takes a large bite, his eyes close and he makes a noise that's way too similar to the one he makes during sex. "That woman knows how to fucking cook!"

When he goes to take another bite, I put my hand on his, stopping it halfway to his mouth. "You know what I meant by my question." He lowers the fork to the plate and turns his head to glare at me, his mouth stubbornly shut. "Nothing? Really?" I run one hand through my hair. "Eight months, Dean. _Eight fucking months_ and you don't have a damn thing to say?"

"Me!?" He turns to face me completely, one finger pressed to his chest. "You're the one-" He stops talking so fast I'm in danger of getting whiplash.

"I'm the one who, what, Dean?" He presses his lips tightly together and turns back to face the counter, reaching out for the beer bottle sitting next to his plate. I stop him from taking a drink. "You've been acting like a fucking brat for the past four months. You got any idea how that's messed with my head? How much danger that distraction put me in?"

"You promised, Carter."

That thoroughly confuses me. "Promised what, Dean?" I put my hand on his arm when he goes to take another bite, once again preventing him from doing so. "What could I have possibly promised that has you this pissy?"

He drops his fork on the plate and leans his head back to stare up at the ceiling. "The fact that you don't even know shows just how much you don't care."

"What a thoroughly female thing to say." I ignore his outraged squeak. "I've been just a tiny bit busy making sure I don't lose my life, Dean. I'm sorry I forgot, whatever it is I forgot, but really, you know how it is. When you're under, real life doesn't matter for the length of the op."

He picks his fork up and toys with the remaining food on his plate. "You just don't get it, do you, Carter?"

"Obviously not." I sigh deeply and shift my weight to lean one hip against the counter. "Ya know, I really thought I'd never have this argument again after divorcing Nicole."

That gets a real chuckle from him. "Somehow I don't believe that the two of you ever had this type of argument. Based on how the two of you acted with each other last year it's obvious that you never really argued. You're damn good at the whole passive-aggressive shit and she looks like she would be too."

"Just tell me what's got you in such a snit."

He shakes his head. "That's not why I'm here."

"Then why are you?"

He turns his head to look at me again. "Eight months, Carter."

I know exactly what he's talking about. Wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, I whisper in his ear, "I know. It's been _hell_." He turns his head so that his lips brush against mine just as a thought occurs to me. "How'd you know I was here?"

A grin spreads over his face. "You think you're the only one Rosie likes?"

"Oh, so you think you're her favorite, huh?"

"Didn't say that." He rubs his nose against mine. "Only said she likes me, too."

"So she called you?"

He nods. "Said you asked her to eat with you and you appeared to be lonely."

"Ah. So you're not here for sex, you're here to keep me company."

"Who says we can't do both?" He leans in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. 

Thankful he's either decided to forgive me or forget whatever it was, I return the kiss. One kiss turns to two, then to three until we're grabbing at each other as the kiss goes from soft and gentle to hot and heavy. Wrapping both hands around the back of his head, I begin walking him backward out of the kitchen and toward my bedroom. He slips the fingers of both hands under the waistband of my boxers and cups my ass, squeezing and digging his nails into my skin.

Trailing my hands down the front of his shirt, I lift the hem and slide my hands underneath, pressing my palms flat against the warm skin of his stomach, feeling the muscles twitch at my touch. I slowly run my hands up his torso, his shirt catching on my wrists. He lifts his arms and assists me in tugging it off over his head, reluctantly releasing my mouth. 

I toss his shirt over my shoulder, then push on his shoulders, forcing him to land on his back on the bed. With one pull, I remove my boxers and climb up on the bed, straddling his hips. Leaning down, I seal my lips to his and tease his tongue into my mouth so I can suck on it like a piece of candy. Eventually we need to breathe and I pull back just far enough to look into his eyes. "Top or bottom?"

He blinks at me. "Huh?"

I chuckle. "Top or bottom?" When it becomes obvious all the blood has left his brain, I repeat my question with a bit of explanation, "Do you want to top or bottom?"

"Oh!" A wicked grin crosses his face. "I don't care."

"This is for you, Dean, so choose."

"Really, Carter. I don't care. After eight months I'd be happy just rubbing off against your leg."

"We're not animals, Dean," I huff, crawling off him so I can reach into the bedside drawer and grab the bottle of lube. "Here," I say, handing it to him over my shoulder.

He huffs a laugh. "Need to get undressed first." He sits up and begins undoing the laces of his shoes. Never one to just sit and watch, I climb off the bed to assist with his other shoe. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

I look up at him and grin. "Just really ready to get this show on the road. You got a problem with that?"

"Nope." He grabs a fistful of hair at the back of my head and presses our lips together, flicking the tip of his tongue against my lips as he pulls away.

"Good to hear." We each pull off one shoe and his socks, then I begin undoing his belt. He leans back on his elbows and lets me do what I want. Rising up on my knees I pop the button on his fly, then slowly lower the zipper. My dick twitches in interest when I see that he's not wearing any underwear. "You have any idea what it does to me knowing you're running around with no underwear on?"

He lifts his hips and chuckles. "Why d'ya think I do it?"

"Brat," I say with no real heat. He licks his lower lip, his lids half hiding his passion filled eyes. "And these fucking skinny jeans," I mutter pulling them off by the cuffs, then climbing back onto the bed and once again handing him the lube. 

"What, no condom?" He rolls over and takes the bottle.

"There hasn't been anyone since Jaimie, right?"

He presses a kiss to my shoulder, surprising me with the unexpected gentleness. "Just you. And I've never _not_ used a condom."

"I know. You're always asking me to let you go bareback." The look he gives me tells me he knows what I'm doing but the novelty of fucking me without a condom overrides his desire to call me on it.

He places one hand between my shoulder blades and gently presses until I'm settled on my elbows with my ass in the air. I hear him flip open the cap and squeeze some lube on his fingers, forcing myself to relax enough that he can prepare me with minimum discomfort.

Despite expecting it, I still startle a little when one lube coated finger presses against my entrance. He chuckles at my response. "God, Carter, you're tight as a virgin. Didn't you take time for yourself?"

"Only the occasional jerk-off session in the shower."

"Is that all?"

I glare at him over my shoulder. "The bed's in an alcove that's in view of a camera. No way am I going to give that prick a free show and you know how I feel about doing it in the shower." He just grunts and slowly presses his finger inside, twisting it. "No need to take your time, here, Dean."

"Don't want this to hurt more than is necessary, Carter."

"Doesn't matter. It's been just long enough that it's gonna hurt even if you take all night." His finger pauses and I look at him over my shoulder. "What?"

"You want the pain." He makes it a statement, not a question but I nod my head in answer anyway. "Why?"

I drop my head to my clasped hands. "I like the pain, Dean, you know that."

"But not like this." I look back at him over my shoulder again, one brow raised. He huffs out a breath. "Not going to hurt you, but I can promise to not drag it out." 

I'll take what I can get and smile my thanks, returning my head to my hands, releasing a deep breath and relaxing my muscles. He drizzles some lube down my crack and scoops it up on two fingers before slipping those fingers inside, twisting and scissoring them before adding a third. When I begin rocking back to meet each thrust of his fingers, he pulls them out and tugs on my right hip with his left hand to get me to roll over to my back.

I go willingly enough and spread my legs around where he's kneeling and tuck a pillow under my hips. The urge to touch him and force him to get on with it already is so great that I tuck my hands behind my head, my fingers interlocked tightly.

My breathing quickens at the squelching sound of him lubing his cock. He wipes his hand on the sheets, then placing one hand on each thigh, he presses them open a bit more and slowly enters me.

The burn of his penetration is almost too much. I bite the inside of my cheek hard to keep from coming this quickly. After eight months it's gonna take every bit of self-control I have to last even a few minutes, but I'll be damned if I don't fight for every moment.

It feels like the first time all over again, except Dean's entering me painfully slow where that first time was so fast it left me breathless.

Once fully seated, he stretches out over me and cups my head in his hands. I take this as my cue to wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his upper back. Lifting my hips, I try and get him to move, to remind him of why he's here but he doesn't take the hint. He just makes himself heavier somehow, settling deeper into the cradle of my hips, effectively stilling my movements.

"Dean," I plead breathlessly not even caring that I'm actually begging.

He smirks at me, the bastard. "What?"

"You said you were here to fuck me. So fuck me!"

Instead of complying he begins humming a song that sounds familiar but I can't quite place, rubs his nose against mine and, _finally_ , lazily rocks his hips against mine.

"Eight months, Dean, and this is what you want to do?"

"I figure this would be as good a time as ever to talk about what happened four months ago," he says to the tune he's humming.

I frown up at him and begin humming the tune under my breath along with him. Slowly words come to me and I close my eyes and give a small moan as the realization hits. "We talked about it before, Dean. You said it was alright if we celebrated after."

"And that's not why I'm angry."

"So tell me already!"

"What was the date the last time we saw each other?"

"Damnit, Dean!" Now I'm getting pissed. This is so not the time or place for this conversation. "You know I lose all concept of time and definitely lose track of the date when I'm under. Hell, I don't even know what today is!"

"Then think! I've given you a big ass clue."

I shove against his chest, pushing him back enough that he's balanced on his hands. "I don't-" I stop talking as everything that's been said tonight clicks into place. "But you always said…"

"That it's just another day? Yeah, I do but I don't actually mean it. If it had been anyone else but you that forgot…" His voice trails off and he shifts as if he's going to roll off me. I tighten my hold in an effort to keep him in place.

Reaching up with one hand, I cup his cheek and very softly and slightly off-key, begin to sing, "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Dean. Happy birthday to you." The smile that crosses his face is one I've never seen from him before and it makes my heart clench painfully tight in my chest. "I'm sorry I forgot. Tell me how I can make it up to you."

Instead of answering he shifts his hips, pulling out part way and slamming back in. My eyes roll back in my head at the force of him bottoming out. "I guess this means you've forgiven me." 

His response is to quirk a brow at me and begin thrusting in and out in earnest, going deeper, harder with each one. All I can do is grab onto his biceps and hold on. And then he shifts so that my knees are now draped over his thighs instead of around his hips.

Normally I'd close my eyes to better enjoy the sensation of being fucked, but not tonight. The look on Dean's face is all concentration and effort, but the look in his _eyes_ is soft, gentle, and full of emotion I can't – _don't_ – want to name.

"C'mon, Carter," he mutters, shifting all his weight to one hand so he can wrap the other around my dick. One thing about being lovers for so long is he knows _exactly_ how, and where, to squeeze. 

It doesn't take long, just a couple of squeezes, a couple more thrusts, and my back is arching off the bed, my head thrown back as I come all over my chest and his hand. He continues to fuck me through my orgasm, his hand milking my cock of every last drop. 

His face contorts as he thrusts several more times before he stiffens and I feel his come inside me for the first time. The sudden warmth of a liquid where none should be is a very weird feeling. It's definitely something I could get used to, though, especially since I enjoyed how it felt to have nothing between us but the lube. 

Dean's arms give out but he manages to catch himself on his elbows, his forehead pressed to mine as we both work to catch our breath. His hips continue to stutter every so often with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Eventually he sighs and rolls off to my left, wrapping an arm and a leg around me and snuggling down with his head tucked under my chin. It's a familiar position but not one I want to be in tonight so I roll to my left and wriggle until we're eye level.

He smiles at me and rubs his nose against mine, something he's been doing a lot of lately and I begin to make a mental note to ask why but get side tracked by three words hovering on the tip of my tongue. Three words that I have never said with any degree of honesty. I clamp my jaw tight knowing if those words get out there's no way to take them back, never mind that I would actually mean them this time. So I keep them firmly behind my teeth especially since I have no idea if Dean feels the same.

Dean falls asleep but I lie there awake, stunned by the fact that I, someone who doesn't believe in the emotion, actually love the person currently curled in my arms. I am so fucked and for some reason, I couldn't care less.

My sleep, when it finally comes, is deep and dreamless and when I wake the next morning it's to find all hints of Dean's having been there, other than the glorious ache in my ass, gone.

After swallowing a cup of coffee and showering and getting dressed, I make my way to LAPD HQ. "Damnit, Carter. Didn't your mother teach you how to knock?" Maynard rants when I enter his office unannounced as usual.

I smirk at him. "If you were really busy, she'd-" I flick my head over my shoulder to indicate his assistant. "-have been more insistent about stopping me."

He sighs and rubs his temples. "Why're you here, Carter?"

"The feds agreed to help."

His head snaps up and he narrows his eyes on my face. "What did you have to give in exchange for it?"

Knowing he's not going to like the answer, I walk over to the window. "Trent."

"Damn, Carter. Considering how much time and energy you've put into this one I never thought you'd let it go."

I shrug. "If it gets me home within a couple of weeks versus several more months, I'm all for it."

"How is Dean?"

His question startles a huff of humorless laughter from me. "What makes you ask that?"

"Please, Carter." I can hear the eye roll. "I know the two of you. Plus, it's obvious he's pissed at something you did, or didn't, do and now you're here and you're not sitting down."

I turn to glare at him. "So, the fact that I'm not sitting down means something must have happened between Dean and me and couldn't possibly mean that I'm just too nervous to sit?"

He shakes his head. "I have an idea of what happened but I really don't want to know."

My chuckle this time is genuine. "I'm positive you don't."

"So how's it gonna go down?"

"I got the alarm codes to Bryant's house from the undercover agent posing as his head of security as well as a good time for Trent and his men to enter Bryant's house. The feds will be waiting and when Trent tries to kill Bryant, they'll both be taken into custody."

He nodes. "Sounds good. Will Marcus be arrested, too?"

"No." I shake my head and begin pacing the room. "Trent thinks Marcus is a bumbling fool. He gave me my assignment to get the alarm codes and summarily dismissed me. I don't expect to be invited along to Bryant's murder."

"What's your next move?"

"Take a few days to recharge, then give Trent the codes."

"Very well." He dismisses me with a nod but then calls me back with, "I expect you to have a serious talk with Dean when this is over, Carter. Your team works well together and I refuse to break you up but if he acts like this again I will."

I nod. "I was already planning on speaking to him, Captain."

"Make sure he understands that he can't let an argument between the two of you to affect the way the team works."

"I was planning on it, Maynard." My tone takes on a hard edge. Does the man really think I didn't understand what he meant the first time?

My mood is so dark that I decide to stalk around the city doing my best to not scare the people walking around. I'm not really paying attention to where I am or where I'm going, beyond making sure I'm not being followed, and so it is with some surprise that I find myself standing outside the door to the loft.

Deciding that since I'm here I might as well go in, I open the door and walk across the empty space toward where Dean's leaning against my desk, looking for all the world like he owns it. When I reach him, I don't even think, just reach out and grab his face, holding his head still so I can lick my way into his mouth.

I'm so intent on Dean when I enter that I don't even notice we aren't alone until Ty exclaims, "Dude!" causing me to jump in surprise. "Look, I know I said I know about you two but that doesn't mean I wanna see it! This is a place of business. If you can't keep your hands off each other, I suggest you get a room."

"Good idea," I reply, turning and heading back out. "You coming?" I ask Dean when I reach the door and realize he's not following.

"Maybe later. I got work to do and my boss is a real hard ass."

"Is he now?" Dean nods, his smirk growing wider. "Well, make sure he doesn't work you too hard. You'll want to be well rested for what I have planned."

"You got it." He nods before turning to face Ty and picking up their conversation as if I hadn't just interrupted it, and outed us both.

When I get back to my house, I select a book and settle into a comfy armchair, trying to distract myself from the fact that I wish Dean was with me. But he has his own cases to work, much as I wish we only worked one at a time.

I surprise myself by actually losing myself in the book and before I know it the room is full of shadows and I realize the sun is hanging low in the sky. Putting the book aside, I get up and head to the shower, indulging myself by letting the warm water beat down on the back of my neck.

When I start to prune, I quickly finish up and then, slicking water off my face, turn off the tap and open the door to the shower stall. It must say something about me that I'm not the least bit surprised to find Dean leaning against the doorframe, his eyes heavy lidded with desire. 

"Why didn't you join me?" I wish I could lean nonchalantly against something, too, but the frame of the shower stall is all sharp angles.

"Don't need a shower." I just raise my eyebrows at him. "Yet at any rate." I don't even stop the laugh that bubbles up. "Need this?" He holds up my towel.

"That would be nice, yes." I step out of the stall and take the towel from his hand, quickly drying myself off before wrapping it around my waist to combat the discomfort of being completely naked while he's completely dressed. "Um," I clear my throat, rubbing one hand across the back of my neck. "Sorry about outing you back at the loft."

He smirks at me. "I told Ty that I swing both ways years ago so no harm done."

"Good." He nods and we stand there for several seconds staring at each other. When his gaze dips a bit, and one brows rises, I become aware that a towel really isn't the best thing for hiding my reaction to close proximity to him. I roll my eyes and close the distance between us, wrapping one hand around the back of his skull and pressing my lips to his.

His lips part to let my tongue in. He turns us until I'm pressed against the wall, held in place by his body, while one of his thighs slips between mine to rub tantalizingly against my balls. I slide my free hand under his shirt, my nails digging into the warm skin at the small of his back.

I'm so distracted by his kisses and his thigh pressed against my balls that I don't notice that he's removed my towel until he's kneeling at my feet and nosing the crease between my leg and torso. He swallows me whole and I clutch at his head wishing he had some hair I could grab.

The worst, and best, thing about being long time lovers is he knows each and every one of my hot spots, and loves to hit them all right from the first and now is no different. All too soon, I feel the tell-tale tingle at the base of my spine that tells me my climax is imminent. Pushing against his head I get him to sit back on his heels.

"What?" He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Don't wanna come down your throat."

I tug on his shoulder and get him to stand up. "So where do you want to come?"

Once he's standing upright, I pull the slightest bit causing him to lose his balance and lean against me, once again pressing me against the wall. "In your ass." He's not the only one who's been wanting to go bare.

He licks his lower lip and gives a throaty chuckle that goes straight to my dick. "I can get behind that." He shifts off me and exits the bathroom, pulling his clothes off on his way to the bed. I follow the trail he leaves and ogle his ass as he climbs up on the bed and sprawls face first in the middle, his head twisted just enough for him to see me. "Do you need a special invite?"

I can only shake my head and snicker at his antics. "Always so fucking horny."

He leers at me. "Damn straight."

Crawling up onto the bed behind him, I stretch over him to pull the lube from the bedside drawer, placing a gentle kiss to his shoulder in passing. I squeeze some lube onto my fingers and warm it a bit before pressing them inside to prep him. "Damn, Dean," I mutter at the evidence that he thought ahead.

"What? The hint you left me with was just too tantalizing for me to not do something about it."

"So you took time to finger yourself before coming over here?"

I twist my hand and rub against his prostate, pulling a gasp from him and an aborted jerk of his hips. "Nope. Got myself a nice toy for my birthday." He groans when I add a third finger. "Thank you, by the way."

"Huh?" I'm only half listening, too intent on watching my fingers disappear into his ass.

"The toy. I charged it to your card. So if you see a charge from some place you don't recognize, that's it."

What he's saying finally registers. "Wait, what? You _stole_ my card to buy yourself a dildo?"

"Stole's such a strong word, Carter."

"But it's what you did." I can't believe he did that. Wait, yes, I can.

"Actually, I didn't. Your card is still in your wallet, never left actually."

"Then, how?"

He just raises one brow. "Do you really want to discuss this _now_?"

He's right. I have much more important things to do, like fucking him senseless. "I hate you," I mumble, leaning down and nipping at his shoulder while replacing my fingers with my dick.

"Mm. Hate you more." His breath catches on the last word as I pull all the way out and slam my way back in.

I nuzzle his cheek until he threads the fingers of his right hand in my hair and twists his upper body enough for me to suck on his tongue. We break for air but he leaves his hand in my hair when I bury my nose behind his right ear and I wonder fleetingly if the awkward angle of his wrist is painful or not. His hand clenches and unclenches in time with my thrusts, tightening as my pace speeds up. 

I meant it when I told him I've never had sex without a condom and the experience is incredible. I had difficulty concentrating on the feelings last night when I was on the receiving end but now, not so much. I was never one of those guys who bitched about how wearing a condom means they won't be able to feel anything, which is a total lie, because unless the condom is made from extra thick latex there's no way it can dull the sensations to nothing. But now that I'm fucking him bare, I know what they were all talking about. It's so much _more_ without a barrier. Not that I'd ever insist on going bare with a stranger, that's just asking for trouble, but with Dean there's no reason to ever use a condom again. We get checked regularly due to the nature of our jobs and as long as we're exclusive… My mind falters at that word and so do my hips.

Dean tugs impatiently on my hair. "Carter…" My name is a plea and a curse and ends in a wail that I know means he's hovering on the edge and really wants to fall over but needs a push.

My chuckle can only be described as evil and pulls a shiver from the body beneath me as I actually _slow down_ because I'm not inclined to indulge his plea at this time. He whines low in his throat when he realizes that I plan on taking my time, even going so far as to lift his hips enough to keep him from rubbing off against the sheets. "Please," he begs, rocking back to try and take more of me.

"Patience, Dean."

"Fuck patience!" He gives an extra hard tug to my hair. "I need to come, you son of a bitch."

"Not. Yet." I shake off his grip on my hair and sit back on my heels, pulling him with me so that he's sitting in my lap. "Link your hands behind my head." He does as I've requested, turning his head and nuzzling behind my left ear at the same time. "I want to see if you can come from just me fucking you."

"I can't, Carter. I already know that."

"I'm sure you could if you wanted to." I spread my knees, ignoring the twinge at the unaccustomed position, which has the added benefit of impaling him even more on my dick. 

His size makes it difficult to actually thrust in this position but I can wiggle enough to have some friction which is working just fine for me. I know he can come from this, he's turned on enough. All he really needs to do is picture it, that's what I do when I'm close and he seems hell-bent on dragging it out.

Turning his head so I can put my lips to his ear, I tell him, "Picture me fucking you. Imagine what my dick looks like thrusting in and out of your ass. Remember that hotel room with all the mirrors? Remember how I got you off in no time by having you watch me fuck you?"

He shudders, his breath coming in great heaving pants and then he stills, his breath caught in the back of his throat as his muscles begin to spasm and he comes, thick sticky ropes of it coating his chest and my hands where they're gripping his hips so I can grind up against his ass while I chase my own climax in his body.

If I thought it felt weird having him ejaculate in my ass, it feels even weirder when I'm coming in his. Dean collapses forward and I slip out of his ass. The sight of my spunk dripping out of him has the animal side of me perking up for some reason before I lose all control of my muscles and join him in an exhausted heap. 

I'm not sure how long I've been asleep before something wakes me with a jerk. I lie there in the dark, on my back with one of Dean's arms thrown casually over my chest and strain to hear any sound that doesn't belong in my house in the middle of the night.

_There!_ The creaky floorboard in the living room. Someone's in my house. I slip from the bed slowly so as not to wake Dean, pull on a pair of boxers and take my gun from the bedside drawer, habitually checking it while creeping down the hall.

"What are you doing-?" I manage to stop the rest of the sentence when I recognize Trent's shape standing in front of the bay window looking at a book.

"I could ask you the same thing, Marcus." He puts the book down and strolls around the room, touching my things. "Oh, do put that down," he huffs with a wave of his hand in the direction of my gun. I lower my arm, clicking the safety on. "This house belongs to a Carter Shaw and none of my digging has produced a connection to anyone named Deana."

"Because Carter doesn't know her." _Fuck!_ Hopefully Dean'll stay asleep but I highly doubt my luck is that good.

"So again I ask: what are you doing here?"

I take a deep breath and lean my left shoulder against the wall. "Deana still won't see me and it's a long way back to that apartment you gave me so I asked my friend if I could crash here."

He nods. "And how do you know this Carter Shaw?"

I shrug. "We go way back."

"Uh-huh. How far?"

"We were inside together." Hopefully keeping it vague will make the story more believable if Dean does wake up.

"That explains the pictures of you he has all over his house." Understatement of the year. I have only a few group pictures with me, Ty, Jaimie and Dean and several of just the three of them and some with just Dean and Ty and some with just Dean and Jaimie. "Is he the black guy or the white guy?"

"The white guy," Dean says from behind me. I can only hope he's awake enough to follow my lead convincingly.

"I take it _you're_ Carter Shaw?" Trent sits down in my favorite armchair like he owns it.

"Yeah. And this is my house so what the fuck are you doing here?"

The son of a bitch actually laughs. "Your _friend_ here works for me. He's taking his own sweet time completing a task and so I thought I'd check up on him."

"That explains your presence _in_ my house but not how you found it." Dean hasn't moved from behind me and I can feel the heat of him against my back. It's all I can do to not lean back against him. I've seen many different sides of him but I've never seen him in full on protection mode. I find it extremely arousing.

"Well, it seems our friend Marcus here likes to leave his phone on. I was able to track his GPS."

Dean pokes me _hard_ in the back with two fingers. "Now that you've told him to hurry it up, you think you could leave before I call the cops about an intruder in my house?"

Trent appears to think about it for several seconds. "Sure." He stands slowly, stretching like he'd been sitting for hours. "Remember who pays you, Marcus," he says his voice a thinly veiled threat before opening the front door and walking out like he'd been an invited guest and was just now leaving for home.

Dean steps to the window and cracks the blinds just enough to watch Trent walk away. Once satisfied we're alone he spins on his heel to glare at me. "The fuck!? You left your phone on? Your _burn_ phone? Seriously?"

I scrub at my face with my left hand and turn to enter the kitchen. "I never turn my phone off. Never know when I'll be needed."

"But-" He falters to a stop. I look back over my shoulder and see him shake his head. "I got nothing."

"I didn't think he was this smart, Dean." Big mistake, using his name, judging by the narrowing of his eyes on my face.

"And that's another thing; 'Deana', really?"

"What? I'm supposed to admit to being in l-" I cough to cover my almost blunder. "I mean _involved_ with a guy to someone like Trent? You do realize that he didn't let me in until Jaimie tried to swallow my tongue, right?" I pour us both four fingers of scotch. "And what was the thinking on sending her in, anyway?"

He swallows his in one gulp, grimacing at the burn. "She said she had a good cover there and we needed to get information to and from you and since Ty was in court…" He shrugs. I know I'm in trouble when an evil grin begins spreading across his face. "Damn good kisser, though, ain't she?"

I just roll my eyes and down my glass as quickly as he did. "I'm not gonna discuss that with you." The hurt is still a bit too close to the surface. One night of helping Jaimie come down from a high for a cover turned into nearly three months of them trying to hide their affair from me and Dean just about ignoring that we'd ever had anything.

"Fair enough." He pours himself some more. "But seriously. You couldn't have turned it off while you were here?" His head snaps up suddenly. "Please tell me you at least turned it off while you were at headquarters and the federal building."

I roll my eyes again. "I'm not that stupid." He slumps a bit. "Not to totally change the subject or nothing, but how'd you get my card number?"

He grins unrepentantly at me. "I sneaked a peek once."

"Once? And you memorized it?" He nods. I narrow my eyes on his face. "You're some kind of math genius aren't you?"

He shrugs. "There might have been talk of a full ride to MIT, not that I needed it."

"So your family really is rich?"

"They are." He downs his third glass and starts to pour a fourth but changes his mind. "I don't like to talk about it."

I screw the top back on the bottle and return it to its place in the cupboard. "Not a problem." For the first time in a while an awkward silence falls between us. I have no idea if we should go back to bed. Or if I should hint that he should leave. 

He takes the decision out of my hands by stepping around the counter and cupping my face in his hands, holding my head still so he can press a chaste kiss to my lips. When he pulls back he murmurs something I don't quite catch in what I think is French.

"What'd you just say?" I grab his hips to keep him from walking away.

He smiles shyly at me and shakes his head. "Nothing of any importance." I don't believe him but decide to let it go. For now. Once this case is over and Trent's behind bars where he belongs, I plan on finding out just what he said.

Leaning in I press a kiss to his lips. He takes this as his cue to lick his way into my mouth. I slip my hands under the waistband of his boxers and grip his ass cheeks. He moans and grinds his hips against me pulling an answering moan from deep in my throat.

Reluctantly I pull back. "Bed, now," I growl, pushing on his shoulders.

"No." He plants his feet and doesn't so much as waver.

I frown at him. "You don't want to fuck me?"

He leans in and licks at my bottom lip. "Didn't say that."

My frown deepens. "Then what?"

"Well, we _do_ have a couple of places _right here_ …" He waggles his eyebrows.

I pull back in confusion and then what he means hits me. "Oh, hell no! You know how unsanitary that is? Not to mention I eat at that table and cook on this counter!"

"And they can both be disinfected later. C'mon, Carter. Live a little." Live a little? Having sex in the kitchen is his idea of living a little? 

But then I realize he's right. I haven't had sex outside a bedroom since our first time. When I was with Nicole, before things went bad, we used to have sex wherever the mood hit. Well, as long as we were somewhere mostly private. And since we _are_ in my kitchen and can be assured of our privacy, I decide to go for it. "Table or counter?"

He leers at me and runs his tongue across his bottom lip. "Table."

With a chuckle, I step out of my boxers and walk backward to the table, stopping when the edge hits the back of my thighs. He eyes me and follows suit, dropping his boxers and stalking me where I'm leaning back against the table.

He wraps his hands around my hips and presses his lips against mine until I take the hint and boost myself up on the table, laying back with my heels braced on the edge and my knees spread open to present myself to his hungry eyes. He smiles at me and runs the back of his fingers down the inside of my left thigh, making my leg twitch at the slight tickle. 

Reaching under my balls, he rubs one finger against the puckered skin of my hole, pressing slightly inside. "Shall I take the time to get the lube?"

"You are _not_ fucking me dry." He nods and jogs from the kitchen. I feel really awkward lying there on the table in the moonlight that's streaming in through the bay window as naked as the day I was born but before the embarrassment can build too high, he's back and pressing two lube-coated fingers past the guardian ring of muscle.

I bite my lip at the burn, arch my back and grab the opposite edge of the table, my eyes closing in bliss. He doesn't take as much time as I would like to prep me before he's removing his fingers. He grabs the backs of my knees with his hands, spreading them further so he can slowly enter me.

Once fully seated, he props my knees on his elbows, braces his hands on the table at my hips and sets a punishing pace, much harder than he has in a while. I can only lie there and take it, my eyes rolling back in my head. I really want to take myself in hand but need both gripping the edge of the table to keep from being fucked off it.

The sound of skin hitting skin and our harsh pants fills the air, distracting me from the creaking of the table. His thrusts are short hard jabs that leave me with no doubt that I'm going to be sore as fuck come tomorrow. My hips lift in short aborted thrusts, trying to get friction on my straining erection. It's bordering on painful but I know that when I come it'll be the best orgasm I've ever had.

Finally, after what feels like forever and yet not nearly long enough, I scream his name a mere second before my back arches sharply off the table. My breath catches in my throat and my heart stops for a split second and there's complete silence and then a rush of sound that can only be me howling my pleasure at the ceiling while I come all over my chest and abdomen.

Everything whites out for a minute or two. When I am once again aware of my surroundings I look down my body to where he's watching his dick piston in and out of my ass as he races toward his own climax. As I watch, he stiffens, his mouth open in a silent scream, all his weight braced on his hands and his toes as he comes hard inside me.

He starts to lower my legs so he can help me off the table when there's an extra loud creaking noise. Suddenly, I'm falling through the air as the table gives way beneath me. We land in a crumpled heap with him on top, both of us giving twin grunts of discomfort, and lie there for a second or two while doing a mental inventory to make sure there's no serious damage.

Dean moves off me as carefully as he can. Once he's standing he offers me a hand up. "You okay?" he asks, tugging me to my feet with little effort.

"I think I have a splinter in my butt."

"Lucky splinter," he quips, gently brushing debris off my back and then groping me in the name of checking for splinters. 

"How the hell did that happen? That was a solid oak table built close to fifty years ago."

"Guess you need to lose some weight." He pats my belly, which is just as flat as it was when I graduated from high school, thank you very much.

"Me? What about you?" I poke him in the butt when he turns to walk from the room.

He spins back to face me, swatting at my hand. "I'll have you know that I actually weigh less than I did five years ago."

"Yeah?" He nods. "Then who's to blame for my destroyed table, hm?" He gives me a not so innocent look. "I'm thinking you, my friend, since it was your idea to fuck me on it."

He laughs. "But it was fun, wasn't it?"

"Until the table collapsed, sure." He just raises his eyebrows at me. I roll my eyes and sigh deeply. "I admitted it was fun, Dean. What more do you want?"

An emotion I can't name flashes in his eyes but then he blinks and it's gone. "Nothing. I should go. If Trent could find this place who knows who else could. You might consider moving when this is over."

I rub at the corner of one eye, exhaustion suddenly pulling at my limbs. "Yeah. Guess you should. And I'll think about it. I bought this house after Nicole and I quite like it. And it's not like he's gonna be able to do anything with the information after a couple of days. Plus, anyone else who would even want the information is behind bars."

"I'm curious as to why he didn't say anything about you being a cop. I mean, if he was able to find the deed to this house and that you don't know anyone named 'Deana' then shouldn't he have known you're a cop?"

I shrug. "Maybe he was testing to see if Marcus knew. I bet he'll say something when I give him the codes."

"I bet he won't use them, now."

I frown at him. "Thank you for jinxing it."

He grins unrepentantly at me, the brat. "It's what I'm here for," he replies, then spins on his heel and exits the kitchen.

By the time I've picked up both pairs of boxers and returned to my bedroom, he's gone.

I wait two days before heading back to Trent's club. Bryan escorts me into Trent's office as soon as I arrive. Every encounter I've had with Trent since first bringing myself to his attention, with the exception of his brief 'visit' to my house, has left me wondering how this laid back man could have possibly become such a key figure in the drug trade and I'm expecting this one to be exactly the same. 

So imagine my surprise when I enter his office to find him leaning over his desk looking over some papers with his lieutenants. Only time I've seen them all in the same room was when he told me to seduce Trish for Bryant's alarm codes.

When Trent looks up at me I have no problem seeing that he's a man not to be trifled with and if I wasn't who I am and didn't do what I do, that would scare me more than I'd ever be willing to admit. "Took your time, didn't you?" The men standing around Trent's office chuckle at the censure in his voice.

Fighting the flush that wants to creep up my neck, I swallow the retort I so very much want to say and do my level best to act suitably cowed. "Sorry, sir. Since seducing the woman to get what you requested would take more time than we actually have, I tried a different approach."

"Well?" he snaps after several seconds when I don't elaborate right away.

"Oh, uh-" I rub one hand across the back of my neck. "-I, uh, a friend who's good with hacking and stuff spoofed her ATM PIN. With that I was able to find out all sorts of stuff, like how she uses the same four digits in rotating order."

"Rotating, how?"

"Oh, uh, well, she changes the order every four to six weeks."

Trent's starting to get frustrated and shifts from one foot to the other. "Which is it?" he demands through gritted teeth.

"Depends." I look around the room with wide eyes and swallow audibly.

"I swear, it's like pulling teeth with you! Spill!"

"For financial stuff it's every four weeks; everything else is six."

"So the alarm codes are…?" Trent makes a 'come on' motion with his hand.

"On this drive." I toss him the flash drive Trish gave me. "And since she just changed them a few days ago, the most recent is at the top of the list." 

"Thank you. You can go." He returns his attention to the papers spread over his desk, effectively dismissing me from his mind but I stubbornly stay right where I stand. I clear my throat and he lifts his head to frown at me. "I told you to go."

"There's more."

He rolls his eyes. "I don't care that you came with an excellent recommendation from someone I owed a favor to, you are trying my patience!"

"I have the schedule for the guards' rounds."

"Is it on the drive?"

"Yeah." I really hate having to act like a wimp but since that's the cover, I bite my lip and try and make myself as non-threatening as possible.

"Then you didn't really need to tell me that, now did you?"

My cover as Marcus Adams may be that of a weakling, someone who takes orders and follows without question but I'm sure even he'd get pretty angry at this pissant's constant dismissal of him. My temper flares and I snap, "Just why _did_ you hire me if you're not going to let me _do_ anything beyond getting you those fucking codes?"

He blinks at me and silence reigns for an unbearably long time, then suddenly someone begins to chuckle and before long the whole room has erupted in laughter. "Oh, how you amuse me! You did what you were here to do. Now get out of my sight. Someone will contact you about your cut, if I'm feeling generous enough to give it to you."

I want nothing more than to punch his smug little face, but again that's not the cover so I have no choice but to swallow my anger and slink away with my tail tucked between my legs. The need to fight or fuck is strong but I can't really do either and so head back to the apartment Trent set me up with and clear out all my stuff.

Pulling my phone from my pocket I call Boyle and Hollis to let them know I've given Trent the flash drive and warn them that Trent may not completely trust the intel, and why but without going into any detail. My ears are still ringing with their curses when I enter the loft, muttering a few of my own under my breath.

"Going that well, is it?" Jaimie questions from the kitchen where she's making herself a snack.

I throw a glare her way and continue on to my desk where Dean seems to have taken up residence. He looks up from the folder in his hands and grins at me, swinging his feet so that they bounce off the side of the desk. Any other day and the sight of him perched on the edge of my desk, swinging his feet like a little kid would have me at least smiling.

"I have a feeling Trent's late night visit to my house is going to put the mission in jeopardy."

"He showed up at your _house_?" Jaimie exclaims. I turn to look at where she's standing in the entrance to the kitchen with a piece of bread in her hand.

"Yeah, he did," Dean answers for me. "Because Carter left his fucking phone on and Trent was smart enough to trace it."

"Carter?" Jaimie actually sounds like I betrayed her.

"What? I was a bit distracted and forgot to turn it off after checking for texts from Trent."

"Distracted…?" she starts to ask but then looks from me to where Dean's still sitting on my desk and I can practically see the light bulb go off in her head. "Well, that explains the good mood. Thank you, Carter." 

"Yeah, thank you, Carter," Dean sing-songs, a shit-eating grin on his face and a promise of a repeat performance in his eyes. He's attempting to improve my mood and it works, somewhat.

I roll my eyes at them all. "Suggestions to make this go our way."

"Someone should maybe go to Bryant's place and make sure Trent's there when the feds arrive," Ty pipes up. "And since Trent knows what Dean and Jaimie both look like I guess that'd be me."

I nod my agreement. "You do that, Ty." Turning to where Jaimie's still standing in the entrance to the kitchen, I tell her, "Go back to Trent's club. Make some noise that you know Carter Shaw and that him and Marcus are not the kind of people to cross Trent. Make Marcus the biggest wimp you can, if you have to. I'm not planning on keeping this cover when this is over."

"Aw, Carter, I like Marcus." I turn to frown at Dean and find him pouting at me. The look in his eyes tells me it's not a real pout and has me fighting a laugh. 

"Whatever. It's time for Marcus to die." I turn to face Ty and Jaimie. "You have your assignments. Why are you still here?"

They share a look before hurrying from the room. "You might wanna back off a bit, Carter," Dean says, his voice coming from right next to my ear making me jump. "You're wound pretty tight." His hands settle on my shoulders and his thumbs begin rubbing against the knots that have formed there over the past eight months.

A moan escapes before I can stop it. "As great as this feels, we can't. We don't have time."

"Not trying to start anything, Carter." He presses harder with his right thumb and my knees buckle a bit at how great it feels for that particular knot to be rubbed away.

"Then stop." I reach up and brush his hands away while taking a step forward.

"Just trying to help." The look on his face tells me I've offended him with my objection of his offer to massage away my tension but before he can say anything his phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and it's like a switch is flipped when he sees the caller id. He goes from pissed at me to happy and relaxed in the blink of an eye.

"Hey, Baby," he coos into the phone, stepping away and turning his back. His chuckle is downright dirty and goes straight to my dick. "Yeah, I think I can do that. You get that package I sent you?" He chuckles again. "Glad you like it. Wear it for me?" He turns just enough to look at me from the corner of his eye. "I'll be there soon. Leave the door unlocked, okay?" He ends the call and slips his phone back in his pocket.

When he turns back to me, he raises one eyebrow and asks, "What?"

I can only shake my head and turn away. "Nothing." _Lie._ Everything's wrong. I was unaware that Dean's latest case involved a woman and it hurts, listening to him plan an evening of seduction with someone who's not me.

"We agreed if it's for a case it's not cheating." 

"I said there's nothing the matter, Dean."

"Coulda fooled me," he retorts, anger thick in his voice. "I thought we were good but I guess I was wrong."

"Yeah, guess you were." 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head before turning and stalking from the room and I know if the door wasn't so heavy he would have slammed it.

And now we're right back where we were a few days ago with him in a pissy mood and me trying to figure out why and how to fix it. I so do not need this right now.

Feeling like the walls are closing in on me, I bolt for the door and roam the city trying to block the images of him fucking some woman from my mind. Of course I'm not entirely successful and find myself fighting the urge to track them down and stake my claim.

I've never had a case where I wasn't present during the take-down so I head over to Bryant's place and park down the block, taking care to make sure my car can't be seen from the house. Staying in the blind spot of everyone watching is tricky but not impossible. 

"Hey, guys," I say, sliding into the backseat of the car Boyle and Hollis are sitting in. "What's going on?"

"What the fuck, Shaw?" Hollis exclaims, twisting in his seat to glare at me.

I just grin at them. "What? A guy can't come watch the arrest of the bad guys he helped set in motion?"

"If either of them sees you your cover's blown," Boyle says as if I didn't already know.

"I've already decided this cover has served its usefulness," I reply with a shrug.

"When was the last time you were on a stake-out?" Hollis turns back to stare out the windshield at the gates guarding Bryant's house.

"I dunno. I'm usually part of the group being watched during the stake-out." I sit back in the seat, getting as comfortable as possible in the cramped space. "But don't worry. You won't even know I'm here."

"So-" Hollis turns again in his seat to look at me. "Did you take Bendis' badge for the mess with Franzine?"

"Nope. In fact, I rewarded him." I smirk at Hollis. If the guy's gonna be a smartass he deserves all the snark I can give.

"He nearly got one of our men killed!" Hollis has turned completely around in his seat so that he's kneeling and leaning over the back.

I shake my head. "Uh, no. Your guy almost got _himself_ killed because Franzine was able to see past his cover. _My_ guy-" I point a finger at my chest. "-made sure your guy _didn't_ die by leaving him in a place he knew he'd be found."

" _Your_ guy could have stopped it!"

"And then he would have ended up joining your guy in a bloody heap on the floor and then where would we be? Huh? Both with dead assets, that's where and that's not a place I ever want to be." Hollis seems to deflate at that and even Boyle is looking at me like he's never seen me before.

"So when you call Bendis 'my guy' you mean, _'my guy'_." Hollis makes it a statement that I don't feel the need to confirm or deny so I keep my mouth shut and my face blank. 

"Huh," Boyle finally enters the conversation. "Never took him for your type, Shaw. But at least now we know why you were so protective of him." As much as I want to inform them that I've never let my relationship with Dean dictate how I treat him in the field, I don't think it's any of their business so I just blink at them without saying anything. Boyle gives a shrug and turns back to face the front while muttering, "Eh, to each his own."

I bite my lip to stop the grin I can feel growing from spreading over my face and stare Hollis down until he gives a frustrated grunt and follows his partner's lead and resumes his seat. Who knew fed baiting was so much fun?

The plan was for Trent and his men to show up at Bryant's place around five in the evening but Trent is currently doubting the intel given him so I'm prepared to wait quite some time. At five minutes past five we get the signal from inside the house and I sag a bit in relief and pride that Jaimie was able to convince Trent that the intel Marcus gave him is good.

As much as I want to watch Trent take the perp walk of shame up close and personal, and let him know that Marcus isn't the weakling he thinks he is, I decide to content myself with watching from the backseat of the nondescript sedan that the feds think helps them blend in but actually makes them stand out even more.

Trent can be heard loudly protesting his arrest before he can be seen as he is lead from the house in cuffs and in the company of Trish and another agent. In contrast, Bryant is walking willingly behind Trent and his 'escorts'. The agents walking with Bryant each have a hand on one of his arms and seem to be even more aware of their surroundings than any of the others.

"Well," I say, slapping Boyle and Hollis on the shoulder. "My work here is done." I open the door. "Y'all take care now." Exiting the car, I slam the door and make my way back to mine.

I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Dean. It rings several times before clicking over to voice mail. I don't leave a message; wouldn't know what to say at any rate. Giving into my growing anger, I beat my fist against the steering wheel after tossing my phone onto the passenger seat. Damn Dean and his childish behavior. Like him, I thought we were back on the road to being good, until Trent showed up at my place. But even then he didn't show any signs of slipping back into this bitchy mood.

Knowing I need to find Dean and nip this particular foul mood in the bud, _now_ , I head first to his apartment. Not finding him there, I head to a couple of his cover residences. Again, I come up empty. Growing ever more desperate I try the bars he skulks around in. None of the bartenders or regulars have seen him in several days. Not knowing what else to do, I try the loft, despite knowing it's a long shot that he'd be there. And I was right; the place is as empty as it should be at o'dark thirty. Fighting the temptation to put a BOLO on his ass, I head home, hoping that some sleep will curb my urge to throttle him when next I see him.

Entering the house, I walk through it to my bedroom without turning on a single light. I've lived here long enough that I know where every piece of furniture is, besides, there's a rather bright streetlamp right outside the living room window that provides plenty of light to see by, at least until I reach the dark recesses of the hallway.

Once in my room, I kick off my shoes, shrug out of my button down shirt and then tug my undershirt off over my head, before removing my pants and socks in one motion. Leaving my clothes where they fall, I sink heavily onto the edge of the mattress with a world-weary sigh, scrubbing at my face with my hands.

I've never been so tired before in my life and that's what I blame for not realizing that I'm not alone in my house. I'm practically asleep where I'm sitting and the slight rustle of someone moving under the covers jerks me back to full awareness and has me jumping up and diving for the drawer where I keep my back-up gun.

"Easy, Carter," Dean's voice comes from the dark, soft and soothing. I was expecting him to still be angry but it sounds more like he's resigned to some decision he's made.

"Damnit all, Dean! Do you know how long I've been searching for you?" 

"Ever since Bryant and Trent were taken into custody." He says it so matter of factly, as if it means nothing that I've practically torn the city apart looking for him.

"Where have you been?"

A light clicks on and I blink in the face of the sudden brightness to find Dean sitting propped up against the headboard, the sheets pooled in his lap. "I've been here."

"For how long?" I could bite my tongue off for giving into my insecurities but the question has been asked and I refuse to give myself away any more than I already have by taking it back.

"Since about an hour after I left you at the loft." He manages to surprise me with his answer.

"So, your _'date'_ didn't mind you not staying the night?"

"I wrapped the case. Was getting tired of her clinging." He gives a shrug. "What difference does it make? We have - _had_ \- an agreement about that. You want to take it back?"

_Yes!_ "Can't. There will be times when a case calls for seduction. We both need to be free to do so without guilt."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't look convinced. "We need to talk."

"And yet _another_ thing I never thought I'd have to hear once I divorced Nicole," I mutter, turning and heading back to the living room. I have a feeling I know what it is he wants to talk about and it's not a conversation I want to have in the bedroom.

Reaching the middle of the living room, I turn and face him, noting that he's pulled on his jeans but has left them undone. The sight of all that skin is just a tad distracting but I manage to tear my eyes away from the line of hair guiding them down, down, _down_ , to look him in the eye.

When he doesn't begin right away, I raise one eyebrow, silently reminding him he's the one that said we need to talk. He clears his throat. "About earlier-" His voice trails off and he rubs one hand across the back of his neck while turning away to present me with his back. "You got to know this isn't easy for me," he begins again.

I can guess where he's going so I interrupt. "Then let me make it easy: just go. Get your things and leave."

He spins back to face me, his eyes narrowed on my face. "What did you just say?"

I take a step toward him. "You heard me. It's been fun but the time has come for it to end. There's no need for a long drawn out good-bye, so just go. I'll make sure you have your pick of assignments if you don't think we can continue to work together."

He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, his brow furrowed and his head tilted as he looks at me like he's not sure what to make of me anymore. "You think I was going to break-up with you?"

"It's obvious that I can't make you happy in the long run, Dean." I pace away from him, running the fingers of one hand through my hair and give a huff of humorless laughter. "Hell, with my track record I'm surprised we lasted this long." I turn back to face him. "You realize you're my longest relationship?"

His whole face softens at my question. "Yeah, Carter. I know that. You're my longest too. And that's why we work. We're both too fucked up to make it with anyone else."

"It terrifies me, Dean." _Crap._ I hadn't meant to let that slip. But as with the question about his activities for the evening, I refuse to take it back. And he jumps on it with open hands.

"What does, Carter?" he asks in the same soft tone as before.

"You. This. Us." I throw my arms out to my sides. "You get to me like no one ever has." I take a deep breath and decide to just go for it. If he laughs or rejects me, well, I'll deal with it when it happens. "You want to know the real reason I didn't tell Trent I'm involved with a guy? Besides the fact that it took Jaimie sucking on my tongue to get him to trust me, that is?" He nods his head, his eyes never leaving mine. "I have never been in love before. I never even loved Nicole. I married her because it was what was expected of me. And I was hoping I'd come to love her at some point in our lives."

I rub the heel of one hand against my forehead. "I don't feel guilty about that other woman and her kid because I didn't feel anything for Nicole. The woman was my _wife_ and I felt nothing for her. Only reason I refused to sign the divorce papers for so long was because she kept her relationship with my partner a secret for so long. I had to hurt her like she hurt me. Except she _didn't_ hurt me because I had _no feelings for her_!

"But then you came along and you took everything." My legs refuse to support my weight any longer and I sit down on the edge of the bookcase under the window. "You forced your way inside and demanded everything from me." I raise my gaze to his, not sure what I'm hoping to see in his expression but positive it's not the blank look he's giving me. "I can't do this anymore, Dean. You're a distraction and I can't have that. Your pissy mood over me not wishing you a happy birthday had me so fucking distracted I could have gotten myself killed if the situation had been anything other than what it was." I close my eyes, hoping there's not enough light for him to see two tears slide down my cheeks. "It's what's best for the team. Maynard told me that if _us_ -" I wave a hand back and forth between us. "-gets in the way of our doing our jobs, one of us will have to leave. And I highly doubt it'd be me. So, it's over. Get your stuff and go."

He shakes his head like one might when dealing with a particularly stubborn child. "Love doesn't have to make you weak, Carter. It can make you stronger, if you let it. Let _me_." He steps closer and I stiffen in anticipation of his touch. "Seems like tonight's the night for confessions." Now he has me confused but, luckily, not for long. "I've known for some time, now, just how it is you feel about me." His smile has a touch of sadness to it. "You want to know the real reason I was upset?" He barely pauses before continuing, "I was upset because of how I feel about you. And the fact that I know how you feel about me." He turns and strides back to the entrance to the room. "See, I always thought that you were the type of guy who wouldn't let anything get in the way of you remembering something as important as your lover's birthday. And when you didn't even wish me a happy birthday-" He shrugs. "-I began to think you didn't really love me. That I was wrong about that.

"And then there were the messages through Ty. I started thinking I wasn't wrong." He looks at me over his shoulder before turning to face me fully. "And then there was the make-out sessions with Jaimie. Oh, I know it was for the cover." He talks over me and holds one hand up, palm out, when I open my mouth to explain. "I sent her there, remember?" He rubs one hand over his head and I can hear him scrape his nails over the stubble that indicates he needs to shave it again. "I just didn't know how it'd make me feel to know that you can kiss her like that in public. That you can do that with someone who's not me."

Spinning on his heel, he marches from the room, headed for the kitchen. I follow, more confused than I've ever been in my life. I enter the kitchen to find him pulling my bottle of scotch and two glasses from the cabinet. He pours some into both glasses and hands me one, looking me in the eye as if daring me to take the information he's giving me and use it against him.

He tosses back the liquor in his glass before continuing to talk. "The night Trent showed up here, I was hoping you'd say something. And you almost did." My surprise must show on my face because he chuckles and says, "Yeah, I caught your little almost slip." He pours himself some more. "For the record, I said it back. In French." So I was right about the language. His smile turns rueful. "My _mother_ insisted I learn. Said it would make me a more well-rounded person.

"You say you've never been in love before." He looks up at me and I nod. "I haven't either. The day Ty introduced us I was completely taken off guard by the strength of my attraction to you. I'd never been so thoroughly bowled over by another person before. Didn't take long for me to realize it was because I had fallen head over heels madly in love with you the second I laid eyes on you. 

"And _that_ terrifies _me_." Twirling the now empty glass between his hands, he refuses to meet my eyes. "See, in the world in which I grew up, love doesn't exist. My parents' marriage was a business transaction, her father had controlling shares in a company my father wanted and my father had the cash to bail her father out of a financial hole.

"And me – well, I was just an accessory my mother pulled out when she wanted to make her friends jealous." He raises his head and our gazes lock. "Neither of my parents wanted me. I was just another business transaction. My father's father wanted grandchildren. Wanted them so much he threatened to disown my father if he didn't have at least one.

"So imagine my surprise when ten years after I was born my mother got pregnant again. She used to always say that she would never willingly go through that pain ever again. She was too much of a narcissistic personality to suffer for anyone, not even for money.

"Unsurprisingly, I was then sent to a series of boarding schools while my sister was doted on. I never knew what love felt like growing up. I know I loved my parents when I was young, it's instinctive for a child to love the parental figure in their life, but the kind of love my mother had for my sister, I've never known it. The kind of love I feel for you, never saw it.

"Until I met Ty and Melissa, that is. But I didn't know that was what I was seeing between them until you. So don't stand there and tell me it's over because it's not. It can't be. I won't let it be."

He doesn't get it. This can't continue. Sure I worry about him when he's under, I worry about them all when they're under, but for me to worry about him when _I'm_ the one under? I can't have it. I shake my head and tell him as much. "I can't, Dean. I can't afford to be distracted when I'm under."

"Then you know what the alternative is, Carter." He leans over the island that's between us, his nose almost touching mine. "Transfer me out. I'll go to RHD. I'll go back to being a beat cop. Anything! Just don't do this."

The anguish in his eyes is almost my undoing but I have to be strong. For him, I have to do this. Shaking my head I say it again, "I can't. Even if you're in another department, I'd worry too much. I'd still be distracted."

"Then learn how to deal with it! I have."

That takes me by surprise. "What?"

He closes his eyes, his head dropping so his chin rests on his chest and I know he didn't mean to let that slip. "That case when you were kidnapped. That's when Ty figured it out." He looks up at me through his lashes. "And that's when I knew I had to get a handle on my feelings right quick or we'd all be dead. I've learned to compartmentalize while under. I put my feelings for you in a box and close it up and don't open it again until the case is over. Until I can have you under me, in me, around me, again."

He steps around the island and cups the back of my head in one hand, staring intently into my eyes. "I love you more than I could ever imagine loving anyone and I refuse to let you go. I need you like I need air to breathe."

His thumb rubs gently across my cheek and I get the feeling he's waiting for me to say something in reply. I think I know what it is, but I've never said it with even a hint of honesty and the thought of making myself that vulnerable to anyone, even him, scares me so much that I keep my mouth shut. When it becomes obvious that I'm not going to say it, he closes his eyes and one tear slips from the corner of one before he nods, stepping back and releasing me. "Okay. I get it, Carter. I'll go. But I'm not leaving the team. You'll have to fire me first." He exits the kitchen and I find myself rooted to the spot despite wanting with every fiber of my being to go after him. Before I can force myself to move, he comes back, fully dressed and goes to the back door. He looks over his shoulder at me. "I will always love you, Carter."

He steps through onto the concrete of the patio and it's as if that action breaks whatever spell I'm under and I call out, "Wait!" He turns to look at me but doesn't step back inside the kitchen. "I've never said those words and meant them. Do you not see how difficult it is for me?" I can see he's refusing to let my words get to him and it's become obvious I have to confess all. "Unlike you, I've never been attracted to another man before." One of his brows climbs his forehead and I know he's doubting my words because he wasn't my first. "I've done undercover work for decades, Dean. I lived here in the seventies when police were arresting men for having sex with other men. I closed my eyes, bit my lip and thought of all the beautiful women I'd ever known." I step around the island and approach where he's still standing, stopping a couple of feet away. "But you… You forced me to _feel_ , to see what I'd been denying myself. I quit working vice because I was afraid I would one day become attracted to the men I was arresting."

He tucks his hands into his pockets and leans one shoulder against the doorframe. "And I'm supposed to care about all this, because…?"

"Saying those words is a big deal to me, Dean. They can't ever be taken back. Once they're out there, they have the potential to cause a lot of harm."

"Or do a lot of good," he interjects. "Carter, I love you. I used to be like you. I used to think love is a weakness that needs to be stamped out, but it's not. I'm a better cop _because_ I love you. Loving you makes me even more determined to put the bad guys away for good because I don't want them out there-" He flaps one hand in the direction of my backyard. "-fucking up how good our love is." He stands up straight and steps over the threshold back into the kitchen. "Let me love you, Carter. Let me show you just how good it can be." He reaches out with one hand and cups my cheek. "It's actually very easy to say. Just three little words."

"Three words that have the power to destroy everything."

"Or build everything up." He pulls my face to his so he can brush our lips against each other. "I told you: love makes you stronger."

"I'm not sure I can." I hate being this weak where he can see. I'm the boss, I'm supposed to be tough and strong. 

"Trust in me, Carter. Let go and let what's in your heart out." He places one hand on my chest, pressing against where my heart is pounding wildly against my ribs like a bird trapped in a cage. "Let me in. Let me love you."

My eyes slide closed, I take a deep breath and trust in his love for me. "I love you," I whisper the words so softly I almost can't hear them even though I'm the one who uttered them. His warm breath ghosts over my lips when he chuckles softly and I open my eyes, sure he's tricked me into admitting my feelings but the look in his eyes tells me his laugh is one of joy at hearing the person he loves say those words back for the very first time. Emboldened by the love shining in his eyes I say it again, "I love you."

"I know you do," he replies, rubbing his nose against mine, which reminds me I've been wanting to ask him about that.

I pull back and rub at my nose with the side of one finger. "Why do you do that?"

"Does it bother you?" I never really thought about it. It's more confusing than annoying so I just shake my head and shrug. "I saw Melissa do it to Ty once. He all but melted when she did it. Ever since then, I've associated it with an expression of love."

"Okay." Wrapping my hands around his upper arms, I pull him close enough that I can rub my nose against his, pulling a full-bodied laugh from him. "Do it every day. I love it."

He throws his arms around my neck and licks his way into my mouth, dueling with my tongue until we both have to pull back in order to breathe. "I love _you_ ," he murmurs, nuzzling down my cheek to my ear where he makes a snack of my earlobe. "Forever and always."

I wrap my arms tight around his waist. "I love you, too." It's amazing how easy it is to say.

"Make love to me, Carter," he whispers in my ear.

"No." He pulls back from my embrace, hurt flashing across his face at my supposed rejection. "I want to make love _with_ you." The smile he gives is one I've never seen before and has my heart skipping a beat at the beauty of it. "Never _to_ you, always _with_ you."

"Always," he repeats, taking my hand and leading me from the kitchen.


End file.
